Fantasy Island

by Mickey Miller

  I believed him, yet at the same time, this was a whole barrel full of complications. I couldn’t help but drum up the image of Alonso’s big eyes as he watched his parents fight.

  Lord, Connor was somebody’s daddy. My heart constricted, mirroring the anguish knotting my stomach. Nothing would be the same again after this.

  “You need to handle this. If that boy is your kid, you have to be there for him. If she goes around claiming she’s your wife, all the credibility we’ve built here is shot. The big fight is in less than a week. If this gets out…” My voice trailed off. I drew upon my job skills, and shoved all the sorrow down into a ball in my stomach.

  “Crystal don’t do this.”

  I shook my head. “This is why Jeff hired me, Connor. To deal with a crisis like this.”

  “Feck Jeff!” Connor exploded. “This is more than a working relationship between us! I love you, and you sure as feck love me.”

  I closed my eyes, trying to staunch the river of pain about to leak from them. I failed as a teardrop trailed down my cheek. I kept seeing Alfonso’s puppy-dog eyes, and all the hope he’d had when he looked up at his supposed daddy. It brought my own sadness over losing my father swelling inside me, choking me.

  My taxi arrived in a gust of dust as it pulled off the main road, and coasted through the seaside village.

  I scurried towards the backseat before Connor could react, and was inside by the time he reached my window. With how hot it always was on Easter Island, and the fact that a lot of places that were away from the tourist areas didn’t believe in air conditioner, the windows were down.

  Connor leaned in, his grizzled face a mask of pain and fading hope. “I’ll fix this. I swear it.”

  I bit my inner cheek, trying to hold onto the bitchy exterior that would get me through this ordeal. There was so much I could say to him. Deny I loved him. Tell him it was just work. But, I couldn’t do that to Connor. My big, rugged, beautiful, battered Irishman.

  Tightening my hands into fists, I bent slightly. I searched his eyes, memorized them. “The big fight is on Saturday, Connor. I’ll be gone on Sunday.”

  His jaw tightened. I wasn’t going to wait around once the job was finished just hoping that he and Marta didn’t rekindle their relationship. I knew how he felt about marriage. While I didn’t know his stance on children, deep down I believed that if Alfonso proved to be his, Connor would never leave him. Not without a fight.

  I twisted away from him, the remnants of my heart crumbling anew. “Please drive.”

  The driver eyed me in the rearview mirror, but didn’t ask any questions. He pulled away. Right before we turned the corner onto the main highway, I twisted, and got my last look of Connor.

  He stood shirtless with his arms crossed. And as I watched, Marta came up behind him and ran her hand down his arm.

  I was such a coward, running without a fight.

  But the truth was, Connor wasn’t mine. Five years ago, he’d apparently bonded himself with her. He’d joined his mana with her or whatever horse-crap ceremony they’d done. I knew how much that all meant to him, and on a spiritual level, Connor was married. He wasn’t mine. He belonged to this island woman.

  Hurricane Marta.

  The nickname popped into my mind. It was fitting. She’d torn through my life, and dashed everything I’d wanted, hoped for, dreamed of with Connor, into smithereens.

  17 - Connor

  Sweat ran down my face, and my heart pounded harder than it had before any fight. A ball of anxiety leaped up from my stomach to my chest, trying to exit. I clenched my fists as I watched the love of my life ride away, leaving a trail of dust.

  I arrived here with a fashionista for a roommate, and she’s transformed into an almost tomboyish--when she wanted to be--cowgirl with the kind of curves I longed to lose myself in. Did get lost in. I fucking loved the woman, and right now she was making me eat her dust--literally. I coughed at the trail of haze the taxi kicked up speeding across the dirt road.

  I whipped around, and Marta was standing there with a half smile on her face. She reminded me of the smirk I usually sport before a fight when I knew I was destined to destroy my opponent. When she looked at me though, she seemed to look through me, past me, as if I were a ghost.

  A chill went over my spine as I heard the rumble of the taxi fade out in the distance over the countryside, and simultaneously Marta stepped closer toward me. It was as if she knew how much I was aching with the loss of Crystal’s presence, and so she stepped in to fill that void. Maybe it was me who thought of her as a ghost, and not the other way around. But there was no doubt she made me uncomfortable.

  She touched my arm, and I fought to find the words to articulate my feelings. Currently, the only things coming to mind were a load of Irish swears. And not only for the fact that she’d just killed my chance with the one girl I’d ever loved.

  If what she said was true, she’d robbed me of five years of my son’s life. The possibility of that scared the shit out of me.

  The kid was right next to her. He had a blank look on his face, sort of staring up at me in awe. I smiled at him, rubbed his hair and leaned down. Harnessing all of my available self-control, I spoke in a cheerful tone to him. “Hey buddy. You want to go play with the neighbors for a little while? Your mom and I need to have a talk.”

  He paused for a moment, looked up at me with those puppy dog eyes, then took off running across the road where a couple of other neighborhood kids were kicking a ball around.

  “Finally,” she said as she ran her hand over my bicep. “I get to have some time with my man.”

  I recoiled at her touch. “Marta, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. You’re joking!”

  She snorted. “I wanted to tell you. I just wanted to wait for the right time.”

  My eyes bulged out of my head. “The right fecking time?! Fuck me sideways! After I’ve been on this island for eight weeks, now is the right time? Oh. Oh.” I could barely speak I was so irate. On the other hand, how the hell was I supposed to act in the presence of my possible baby’s momma? As experienced as I was in all types of touchy situations, this was uncharted territory.

  “Ohh, honey,” she cooed, grabbing my arm again. “You are so sexy when you’re mad.”

  I didn’t move. I looked her dead in the eye. My face was full of anger, dread, and ire. “Don’t. Fucking. Touch. Me.”

  She jumped back, startled. “Don’t be so mad, Connor. Just a little bit.”

  I clenched my jaw. “You don’t want me to be so mad? Marta, either you have known this was my kid for years, and didn’t tell me until now. Or, you are just trying to fuck with me now that I’m back in town. So, which is it?”

  She gasped. “But Connor!” Her accent came out, and I remembered the way she used to say my name. And it annoyed me. I wanted to hear Crystal saying it, not her. “I would never be so mean to mess with you like that.” She continued, then smiled devilishly. Something was damn fishy, and I was going to get to the bottom of this.

  People were starting to stop and stare at us in the street, so I guided her back toward my hut, and we stepped inside.

  Once we were in, I crossed my arms as I stood right in front of her. “Tell me everything. Tell me how it happened. Tell me why you didn’t inform me I had a young offspring running around out here.”

  Her lips twitched and she got a little glassy eyed. “I didn’t know how to tell you! I thought about it, so many times. But what was I supposed to do, call you and tell you to drop everything? Change your life for me? I watched you on the TV. I know you were fighting all over the world. I didn’t want you to lose any time worrying about me.”

  My jaw dropped and I raked a hand through my hair. “So the right time to tell me was five days before the biggest fecking fight of my life.”

  “I didn’t want to upset your training,” she cooed. Her words came out so tender, but they cut like knives. Something didn’t sit right with me about this whole thing. Still, I needed to
exhaust every possibility.

  “Marta,” I shook my head. For now, I had to go along with her as if she was telling the truth. “I just...I feel awful. I haven’t been there for you. For Alfonso. How could you have let me live the past five years like this?” I took a deep breath.

  “I should have told you,” she said, ran a hand through my hair, and paused. “But we can be together again now. I’m so happy.” She put her hand across my chest, right where my phoenix tattoo was. I stared into her dark eyes, and I saw a siren trying to seduce me. Did Marta think she’d break me just like that, and I’d crumble? Then again, Crystal and I hadn’t exactly advertised our relationship to the general public. Or our love.

  Shit, I wanted to tell fucking everyone about us. I wanted to climb up on one of those mana statues and tell everyone I loved her. But it was only this morning that we found out all of our running and hiding was for naught.

  I backed away from Marta, and her wrist fell to her side. “I’m in love with Crystal,” I spoke firmly. “If Alfonso is mine, we’ll figure out what to do, but I need to take care of something right now.”

  “I’ll be waiting here until you get back.”

  She stared at me as I threw on a t-shirt and grabbed some sunglasses, and headed out the door.

  The sun was closer to the horizon now, and it made for a sort of orange glow falling on the houses across the street. I watched Alfonso kicking a soccer ball, having the ludicrous, silly fun a five year old has. My heart sank. If I’d missed five years of the boy’s life--my boy’s--I’d have a hell of a lot of catching up to do. I’d never forgive myself.

  But right now, I was worried Crystal might be on the brink of making a rash decision, one we couldn’t take back. I needed to catch up with her and explain everything in a way she would understand. I could make this better. She just needed to hear me out.

  Plus, if I were to make it down the next five days--and process the last five years of my life--I was going to need her at my side.

  “Crystal. I know you’re in there!” I banged on the fourth floor hotel room that we had blessed earlier today. I slammed my fist in, repeatedly. “Open up!”

  A couple of doors opened on the floor, they heard me yelling at the top of my lungs like a madman. As soon as they opened up their doors and saw a tattooed, raving mad lunatic of an Irishman, they quickly shut their doors again and hid from me.

  After I caught a glimpse of myself in a nearby window, I had to say I couldn’t blame them. I looked like I was about ready to unleash.

  “Please, Crystal,” I softened my voice. “I need to explain some things. Princess.”

  A feeling washed over me that felt largely unfamiliar. I felt like I was groveling to her. Fuck, maybe I was, though. I’d do whatever I could to get her back at this point, and I had to face that.

  I heard sniffling. “Just go away, Connor! You’ve done enough damage already. You’re reckless, and I should have never fallen for your charms, I should have known this was going to happen.”

  The ball of anxiety creeped up my throat again. This was much worse than any fight I’d ever been in. “Crystal,” I begged. “I fecking love you. I know it looks bad, but it was five years ago! I was barely a boy. I’ve changed since then, so much. What we have--our love--I wasn’t even capable of it until I met you. You brought it out in me. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to give up this easy on us.”

  She was full on sobbing. I tried the doorknob for the hundredth time, and the key. The deadbolt was still activated. “Please, just go away, Connor!” She yelled, her voice shaky. “It’s never going to be the same, and you know it!”

  “Ahhhhh!” I screamed so loud, the entire fecking hotel heard me. Shit, they heard me on the beach outside. I swallowed as I came to the only logical conclusion:

  Crystal didn’t love me. She’d never said it; now it was starting to make sense why not. I’d told her multiple times that she was the one for me.

  My knees caved in like I’d just had the wind knocked out of me. It was in my own mind, sure, but it was a sucker punch stronger than any I’d ever taken during a fight.

  When I regained control, I was dizzy. Crystal was talking, still crying, but I couldn’t hear her words.

  “You don’t love me, do you,” I mumbled through the door.

  “Connor! What are you saying! Are you okay! You’re not making any sense!”

  I growled like a fecking monster--the monster I was at heart--as I stumbled away from her door through the fourth floor halls. I screamed again, and punched the wall so hard I slammed right through the drywall.

  When I pulled it out, I was bleeding, and as my fecking Irish luck would have it, one of the Zoreto chumps walked by right as I was pulling my bloody fist out from the wall.

  “Holy shit, McGrath! It’s just money!”

  I clenched my fists and flexed my jaw. The guy put his hands up to his face, maybe to protect himself. I was a raving lunatic, but I wasn’t about to go attacking random people. And even if I chose to attack him, not like that puny forearm of his was going to do anything about it.

  I stepped closer to him so I was eye to eye. My eyes were wide with insanity. His were wide with terror. “I don’t give two shits about the money any more. Forget the moment I walked out of that meeting. Doesn’t mean I still don’t think you’re piece of shit, suit.” I scoffed. He’d transitioned into flip flops, shorts, and a hawaiian t-shirt.

  “Ohh, what are you gonna do McGrath, you gonna hit me? Ohh, the poor baby didn’t get his contract, and he’s gonna cry about it.”

  My temper was just about to blow. I tried to take deep breaths and realize he was just trying to fuck with me.

  “Yeah, I know man, you’re a fighter,” he continued, his sly smirk pissing me off to no end. I don’t even know why I kept standing there, other than the fact that I had nowhere else to go now that Crystal had cut me off. “You fight. You don’t nab big contracts--you’re just a brute.”

  “Fuck you, Suit.”

  He laughed, mockingly. “Yeah, fuck me. I tell you, I’ve had one hell of a vacation here. All tax free, too. I’ve had a great time on this Island. There’s just one thing left to do on my list--I want to bang that big-titted slut who fucked up your contract. What’s her name again? Caroline? Celine? By the way, if you would have picked a man to head up your campaign instead of a dumb bitch, you might have a had a chance at the endorsement. God, I saw that empty-headed bitch checking in downstairs this afternoon, and I can’t wait to--”

  I lunged at him and took him down to the floor.

  I felt the air go out of his big doughy body, and I squeezed around his neck and chin as he tried to resist my sleeper hold. “Take that shit back!” I yelled. “Take it back!”

  He tried to yell something, but I’d cut off his circulation. His face turned red, and he tried to slap my arms with his. “Apologize, you motherfecker!”

  Some sort of conscience cued in, and I realized I didn’t have a fecking clue what to do from here. He’d hit me right in the achilles heel, and I’d went for it. Still, I gripped him hard, unable to control my strength.

  Right at that moment, I felt a strong pull of on my ear. “Fecking Ow!” I yelled, and my hold slipped off the man’s throat, who gasped for air and gripped at his neck.

  “You’re a fucking animal,” he breathed.

  My scowl didn’t leave my face as I turned to see who had pinched my ear.

  The older couple who Crystal and I had met in the elevator earlier in the day stood glaring at me. The man crossed his arms and the woman tapped her toe.

  “You’re coming with me,” the old man said, pointing apparently toward his room. I rubbed at my ear. Old man didn’t fuck around.

  The Zoreto rep stood up, and backed away from me without turning around. “Damn straight! I’m going to the police with this. You’re not going to live this one down. Assault. Fighting in public. Your career is over, Mcgrath.”

  “I don’t think so,” the matron chimed in, h
er voice strong and direct. “You’re coming, too.”

  “Fat chance,” he mocked as he kept walking.

  “I have a granddaughter who works for the Huffington Post. I wonder what she’d do with a video like this?”

  She pulled out her phone and replayed the action. After seeing what a dick the guy was being, I felt pretty damn justified, actually. The suit’s face, however, went stark white.

  “No. You can’t. Please.”

  “Come back to our room then, and we’re going to talk this out.”

  I didn’t know why the hell these two had appointed themselves moderators of the fourth floor, but I wasn’t about to argue at this point. If they hadn’t stepped in--shit, I might have killed the man in a burst of temporary insanity.

  We walked back to the old couple’s room, like a couple of kids going to the principal’s office. I tried to move the fingers in my hand that I’d used to punch the wall, but it felt numb. I glanced back toward Crystal’s room, and wondered if I’d ever get a chance to explain myself.

  Maybe her heart was as numb as my hand. In a way, I could understand her being scared.

  But if she thought Connor McGrath was going down this easy and giving up on us, well she had another fecking thing coming.

  18 - Crystal

  The brutal sounds of fighting pulsed through the hotel door. Every time flesh hit flesh I cringed, and burrowed myself into the bed. Not even the pillows I bunched around my head totally muted the battle happening on my doorstep.

  Who was Connor fighting with? Lord, how hard was he hitting them that I heard it?

  Connor’s fury tore at my heart. Did the person he was currently beating down deserve his fists? Or was he transposing his anger at me onto someone helpless?

  He was a beast.

  This is why you shouldn’t have gotten involved with him.

  I squeezed the pillows around my head tighter, trying to drum up disgust. But my heart was a traitor and wouldn’t listen to my urging. Every part of my body wanted my Irish brawler.