by KB Winters
“Where’s the other—”
It was gone too.
“Hunter!”
I bolted from the closet and followed his scampering steps down the hall and met him in the living room just in time to watch him root the matching shoe out from its hiding place behind the couch.
“Oh, no,” I breathed, chocking back the urge to scream again. It was utterly destroyed.
Hunter grabbed it in his mouth and shook it around, before dropping it to the ground again. I was frozen with horror when his third, and final act, was to raise his leg on the corner of the couch and pee all over the entire area.
I buried my fingers in my hair and tugged at the roots. “Oh. My. God. I soooo need a vacation!”
Chapter Four
Jack
“This is the life, Princess,” I shouted to my four legged passenger, over the roar of the salty air flowing over the windshield of my convertible. It’d been ages since I’d had the opportunity to drop the top and cruise.
It was almost as good as flying.
Princess panted, her eyes half closed against the wind, a big, happy grin on her face.
We’d been driving down the 101 for the past three hours, stopping at a few viewpoints along the way to take pictures of the ocean and stretch out. We’d had a fish and chips lunch at a little crab shack along the way, and were getting ready to close in on Player’s place.
We flew by a blue, highway sign listing attractions, and I smiled when I saw Rosen Air Museum listed among the other tourist spots. After his father had retired from the Navy, he’d opened his own business. It had originally started as a museum with old fighter planes from different military branches and time periods. People came from all over the state to see his collection, and over time, he’d added to the business to get even more people through the doors. He’d built a hanger and airstrip and took people on air tours up and down the California coast. I’d been out to see it a few times over the years, but I hadn’t been there since Aaron’s father had passed. Player had been running the business for a while and added his own spin, bringing a new, techno savvy element, with a set of virtual reality rooms where people could go inside, get strapped to a real pilot’s seat, and play out battle scenes on a giant simulation screen. Player had told me all about it over the phone, and taken me on a tour over a video chat. It looked badass and I was eager to experience it for myself in person.
A few miles off the exit, I saw the familiar driveway and pulled off the highway. Aaron’s house was on the same property as the museum, and I veered left to follow the gravel drive that led to his bungalow style home. I spotted my old friend on the front porch and honked my horn. Princess added a howl and was lunging at the door before I even brought the car to a stop.
“Crazy pooch,” Aaron said, opening the passenger door when I’d put the car in park. Princess jumped out and started dancing around at his feet. “Hey there, girl. We’re gonna be buddies for a while,” he said, squatting down beside her.
Aaron straightened and offered me a salute once I rounded the car. “Good to see you, man.”
I pulled him in for a quick, one armed, embrace, and as I pulled away, realized it looked like he’d lost some weight. We had similar builds, and while I had an inch on him, we’d been evenly matched in the gym. He didn’t look out of shape, but there was a noticeable difference in his physique.
He smiled. “How was the drive?”
“Couldn’t ask for better.” I went to the back of the car and popped the trunk with my key, but Aaron swooped in and closed it again.
“Hey, hey, we’ll do all that later. Come on, let me give you the tour.”
Princess trotted after him as he set off across the drive, back down the way I’d just driven, towards the massive, warehouse style building that I knew housed all the antique planes. I pocketed my keys and took off after them, jogging a few steps to close the gap.
“So, catch me up, how’s the squad?” Player asked, when I was once again within earshot.
I fell into step beside him, our shoes crunching the gravel beneath us as we walked down the drive, back to where the asphalt road met up and led to the warehouse. “You mean besides the part where we’re all pining away for you?”
Aaron laughed. “Right. That’s just a given.”
I smiled ruefully at my friend, happy to find that despite the months since we’d last been together, our long standing friendship and easy camaraderie clicked right back into place. “Things are good. Gearing up for deployment, obviously. You know. The new guys are asking a lot of questions, getting nervous, but overall, we’re solid. It should be pretty low key. I’m not worried.”
“Of course not, Boomer. You’re the rock for everyone else.”
I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling my sun warmed skin exposed above the collar of my t-shirt. “Well, they might have to figure out a way to survive without me. Right before I left yesterday, Collins pulled me aside and told me about an opportunity overseas. A three-year stint in Germany.”
Aaron glanced over at me, his eyes wide. “Shit! That’d be sweet! You gonna take it?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought about it on the drive down, but not enough to make a decision.”
“Come on,” Aaron said, elbowing me. “I bet you could score some serious ass over there. A decorated Naval Officer, fresh off a plane from the states.”
I laughed and shook my head, marveling at his one track mind. “Some things never change, huh, Rosen?”
He held up his hands innocently, but the daredevil glint in his eye told the true story. Aaron had no problem owning up to his Player reputation, in fact, he relished in it. For whatever reason, knowing he was a womanizer, only seemed to draw more women to him.
I never quite figured out how his game worked.
“With my luck, I’d end up head over heels for some woman who just wanted a green card and the contents of my bank account,” I replied. I’d meant for it to come out sarcastically, but somewhere halfway through it, the humor had fallen away and left me sounding bitter.
Aaron shot me a look as he stopped to fish his keys out of the pocket of his jeans when we reached the side door to the museum space. “When did you turn all cynical? You have some lady problems since I last saw you?”
“Lady problems? Damn, Rosen. I’m single, not PMS’ing.”
Aaron roared with laughter and unlocked the door. He pushed inside and flicked on a light switch. Row by row, the large, industrial light fixtures popped to life, bathing the polished machines in a bright, fluorescent light.
I let out a low whistle and took a few steps inside, my eyes devouring the elegant machines.
“Yeah, we’ve expanded quite a bit since your last trip out here,” Aaron said. He took me down the line, pointing out each model, spouting an impressive amount of information about each plane. When we reached the end of the third row, he smiled even wider. “Now this, this one is my favorite. I worked my fuckin’ ass off to sweet talk this guy into selling it to me.”
“Holy shit,” I breathed, stepping to see the side to take in the full profile. It was a two seater, fighter jet, judging by the look, something from the Soviet era, complete with the designs its original owner had painted on the pilot’s side, just above the wing. “She’s a beaut.”
“Tell me about it. Everything’s original. Take a look inside.”
I glanced over at him and he nodded, silently assuring me it was okay. I took reverent steps to the small door and peeked inside, sure enough, it was all true to the original specs. “It’s like something out of a history book. Can she fly?”
Aaron nodded. “My old man woulda been proud,” Aaron said, his voice thick with a lump of emotion.
“He would have, man,” I echoed, considering my friend with a careful eye. Aaron had taken his father’s death pretty hard, as it had been unexpected, and in the middle of a grueling tour overseas. He’d gone to bed one night, suffered a massive stroke, and never woke up again. Aaron had rece
ived emergency leave to go home for the funeral, and a few days after his departure, we received word from our commander, that he’d resigned his commission y and wouldn’t be returning. I’d never managed to get the full story out of him, but the rumor mill had circulated that Aaron had battled panic attacks and anxiety since receiving the news, and a Chaplain in the unit had advised he not return to finish the deployment.
Aaron nodded, and I looked away at the sight of the glazed over look in his eyes. I’d never been very good at comforting people when they were grieving. I’d never experienced the loss of a parent, sibling, or even a grandparent, which made me very lucky, but also completely ill-equipped to deal with other’s suffering.
“Hey, you wanna go grab a beer or something?” I asked. “You can show me the rest of the place later. We got two full weeks to put your fancy simulation software to the test?”
Aaron’s gaze circled back to me and he smiled slightly. “Sure. I got a six pack chilling back at my place, and a couple of steaks for the grill.”
“Let’s get to it, then!”
Aaron led the way back to his house, and we immediately rolled up our sleeves and went to work at the grill on the expansive deck, with incredible views of the Pacific. The house was built up on a bluff, overlooking the ocean below.
“So, what’s your game plan for the next couple of weeks?” Aaron asked, over a couple of beers, as we stood watch by the BBQ as the steaks sizzled. “I’m up for whatever.”
I shrugged. “There’s been so much going on, that I haven’t thought about it much. I’m cool with as little planning as possible. I’m gonna have a shit ton of decisions to make over this next cruise. I need these two weeks to not think.”
Aaron grinned and leaned in, conspiratorial. “I think we can manage that. We’ll find you a nice little beach bunny to keep you busy.”
“Not a bad plan,” I replied, tipping my beer towards him.
“I’ll drink to that,” Aaron said, clicking our bottles together.
Chapter Five
Holly
“So, this is what Heaven looks like?” I said to Hunter as we took the exit off the 101 for Holiday Cove. The two lane road curved up a subtle hill, winding and weaving, offering spectacular views of the gleaming ocean and beach down below. I tore my eyes off the view and swerved around the next curve. There was a steep drop-off to the left that would get me directly to the beach, but not in the ideal condition. Hunter was in the passenger seat, his head out the window, lapping up the salty air as it whizzed by.
Only once we were descending down to the actual town, did I start to relax, no longer distracted by the cliff-side drive. I followed the lead of my GPS system and quickly found my beach rental. There were three bungalow style houses at the end of a dead end street. Quiet. Secluded. And, most importantly, beach front. There were driftwood signs in front of three parking spaces, and I whipped into the one with my temporary address carved into it.
“This is home,” I told Hunter, double-checking the address on my phone, making sure it matched to the house in the center that was painted a rich navy blue, with off-white shutters and trim. It was perfect. Exactly as I’d imagined from viewing the pictures online when I’d made the reservation.
Hunter gave me a confused look, probably wondering why the car had stopped. “Come on, goofy.” I let myself out and held the driver’s side door open so Hunter could stumble against the dash and jump out. I made a grab for his leash before he hit the ground, knowing it would be a disastrous first day of my vacation if he were to get loose.
The inside of the house was even better than I’d pictured. The French doors off the living room flooded the whole space with natural light, and I could hardly wait to sit out on the back deck, drinking coffee, Kindle in hand, listening to the sounds of the tide.
I sighed deeply, unloading the remainder of the stress that clung to me, and pried myself away from the view long enough to explore the rest of what the house had to offer. There was a fully stocked kitchen, complete with the groceries I’d ordered ahead of time with the concierge service through the property management team.
“God, this is better than my pantry at home.” I marveled at how every detail had been taken care of.
The next stop was the master suite, which was so beautiful I wanted to burst into tears. Fresh white linens, a vintage, shabby chic flavor, with select beach themed accessories that brought the beauty of the ocean into the room, but not in a heavy handed, or kitschy way.
It was sheer perfection.
The bathroom was white tiled with a spa tub underneath a picture window, and I seriously considered stripping down and taking advantage of it right away. Hunter bounded in as I was trying to decide what to do first and within seconds, he’d knocked over the bamboo laundry hamper and sent a container of bath salts flying with the flick of his tail.
“Hunter! Out!” I pointed at the door and stuffed down the tug at my heart when he flashed me his big, blue eyes. “We’ll go for a walk in a minute. I have to clean this up first.”
He scampered back in, lunging for me, and scattered the bath salts even further. I picked him up and deposited him in the hallway before shutting the door long enough to clean up the mess with a damp towel. “Heavens, dog,” I mumbled to myself, polishing the floor for any last specks.
If I had any hope for a nice, relaxing soak, I needed to wear him out first. That was the only bright spot in puppy life. They tired easily and took frequent naps. Which, I already could see, was going to be my salvation if I was to get any down time on my trip.
By the time Hunter and I had wandered up the beach a mile and a half, and back again, we’d both earned a nap. He’d done surprisingly well, and although we’d taken frequent breaks for him to sniff random sea debris, he’d kept a pretty good pace, and on the way back, his lagging pace ensured I’d get at least an hour to myself, without having the constant worry of what he was getting into. He was one tired puppy!
I brushed the sand off of him with a towel when we reached the back door. He hardly put up a protest as I grabbed for each chubby paw and I pressed a kiss to the top of his head and gave him the go-ahead, as I opened the door. He trotted inside and after getting a drink of water, hunkered down on the woven rug in front of the couch.
With Hunter asleep, I crossed to the kitchen and began to bring my vision for dinner to life. I wasn’t much of a chef, mostly because I’d never had the time to learn, but I had a few staple dishes that I could brag about and served whenever I hosted a dinner. In celebration of my first night of vacation, I made homemade lasagna with extra layers of cheese and garlic. Normally, I monitored every morsel that went into my mouth, to avoid the weight gain that often went hand in hand with spending the majority of my days in my office chair. However, I was on vacation and I’d decided—ahead of time—to ditch the diet and live a little.
“Besides,” I said to myself, lowering the heavy pan to the oven. “It’s not like I have anyone to impress.”
I set the timer and went to work on a fresh salad to tide me over until dinner was ready. It was getting late, and I hadn’t eaten anything since my lunch at a diner off the 101 that had suckered me into stopping with the promise of fresh strawberry milkshakes on the roadside sign. I licked my lips, just thinking about the milkshake made me salivate. I tossed two more handfuls of spinach into my salad bowl. A vegetable penance.
Some habits die hard.
Only when I sat down at the reclaimed wood table, did the overwhelming silence hit me. The house was too quiet, even with the windows open to let in the ocean breeze and the sound of the crashing waves. The gentle noise faded to the background all too easily. I set my fork down and went to the media console in the living room. My phone fit the attachment for the sound system and within seconds, I figured out how to get my play list to pipe through the speakers that were scattered throughout the entire house.
“That’s better.” I went back to the table and retrieved my fork. A few bites in, and I beca
me uninspired with my overly ambitious salad. I craned back to look in the kitchen, wondering how long it had been since I’d put the lasagna in the oven to bake. I abandoned my salad and went to check, sighing deeply at the discovery that less than five minutes had passed. I leaned against the opposite counter, watching the timer count down, but that only made it move slower. “Maybe some TV would help…”
Hunter was curled on the rug in front of the TV, and I slid down to the floor to join him, remote in hand. I rested an arm around his warm body, and flicked the music off, and the TV on. The rental was loaded down with channels, thanks to the satellite I’d seen on the roof when I’d been walking back from the beach. However, as I scanned—and re-scanned—through the available shows and TV movies, nothing struck my interest. I tossed the remote aside with a huff.
“This is ridiculous,” I scolded myself, pushing my hair back. “You just need to relax. That’s what this is all about, remember?”
The lasagna still had another hour to go before it would be ready. I pushed off the floor and went to get my phone off of the dock. Rachel should be home from work, and I was sure she’d want to know that I’d made it safely. Maybe we could even do a video chat, and I could give her the tour of the house. I dialed her number and paced the living room while it rang. After a few minutes, her chirpy voice came on instructing me to leave a voicemail. I hung up before the greeting ended and sent a text instead, letting her know I’d arrived and I missed her.
Rachel was part of a large group of friends that all shared a love of the beach and at any given time, a handful of us were bound to have plans somewhere in Newport Beach. We tried to see each other once a week, or once every other week if things were really crazy, and I knew that the nights we weren’t spending together, she was likely out with them. It never bothered me. She was far more social than I was, and loved the nightlife and energy of being in a big group. But, I couldn’t hold back a little seed of jealousy knowing she was out having the time of her life, and I was stuck inside, going stir crazy, on day one of the vacation I’d spent months building up in my mind.