Back Off: Reed Security: Book One

by Robin Leaf

  “He can’t touch much through the wetsuits.”

  “Jeez, Noah,” she whines, “you just don’t get it.”

  Fionn is steadying her in the water, talking closely in her ear. She is leaning into him, hanging on his every word.

  I roll my eyes. “God, I hate that fake ‘helpless female’ shit. Why can’t she just admit the truth?”

  She smacks me on the arm. “You know she’s shy. And Fionn seems to like it. Look at him out there, all protective and shit. It’s sweet.” She lays down and starts furiously paddling. “Just let it go, Noah.”

  I look back over my shoulder to see the reason Charlene started paddling. The wave is too close for me to catch, and it crashes over my head, knocking me off my board. I resurface, thankful my leash kept my board close. I turn it over and hop on, deciding I need a break.

  Once I make it to the beach, I peel off my wetsuit, only to get smacked in the back by a volleyball. I force a smile and toss it back to the beachgoers, waving off their empty apologies. Although we are at one of the beaches that is only frequented by locals, it’s still more popular than I like. I prefer to surf at that secluded beach recommended by my friend’s dad. There, we can surf without all these yahoos in the way.

  I stow my board, taking in my surroundings. I’m not sure why, but I’ve always been one to check out the scene, on alert for anything. My mom says I’ve done it since I was a little kid, like I was meant to be a detective or something, but really, it’s just something that became habit after making that promise to my dad.

  Since this is my sister’s birthday, we had to come here where they don’t mind a party. In fact, there are several going on today, and that puts me on edge. Most are families or fellow surfers, but there are two that are concerning me.

  Leaning over our cooler to retrieve a water, I notice the volleyball game resumes, but the players are sloppy, spending most of their time chasing after the ball and stumbling. They keep going to the cooler, most likely filling their lidded tumblers with something forbidden on this beach. It’s unclear if they’re actually sneaking alcohol, either because it’s outlawed or because they are minors. Either way, their behavior is suspicious.

  When I flop in my chair, I slide on my sunglasses and scan party to the right. It’s less active but more rowdy. Mainly, they’re just standing around talking loudly and laughing, making no attempt to hide the beer they’re drinking as they cook on a small hibachi grill, which is also outlawed on the beach. Plus, they’re blaring music, just another reason to be annoyed. I honestly don’t mind old rap in small doses, but the new stuff they’re forcing everyone to hear is kinda boring. It seems like they’ve been listening to the same song for an hour now.

  I haven’t seen any of these people before. Their drinking doesn’t bother me as long as they’re not surfing. It really annoys me when people are stupid on purpose.

  The music changes finally, and fuck me, it’s Janet’s “If.” I take off my sunglasses and rub my eyes, sitting back against the chair, willing my dick to stay at rest. Once I think I’m safe, I take a casual look around.

  The movement off to my right draws my attention. A girl dances to the song, copying the dance from the video almost perfectly. Her movements are subtle, but damn. She’s wearing a bikini top nicely covering perfect tits and a pair of shorts barely containing her rounded ass; I’m transfixed. I sit up and move my legs to the side of the chair, resting my elbows on my knees so that I don’t embarrass myself. Popping a boner at the beach is not exactly the coolest thing to do.

  I feel like I’ve seen this girl before. Her movements are so familiar. The way her hips move… something about them…

  Can it really be the girl I’ve been fantasizing about all week?

  The sun is behind her, so I can’t see her face, and even if I could see her now, I never got a good enough look at her at the dance to be able to know if it’s the same girl.

  She sure moves the same, and it definitely has the same result on me.

  “That’s Cristiana,” Layla says, making me jump.

  I’m very pissed at myself for not noticing they had returned. I hope no one can tell how much I really like what I see.

  When I look up at Layla, she winces, probably because of my scowl (because she interrupted my private show). “So?”

  “Oh, I just thought… I mean, the way you’re looking at her…” she trails off.

  “What does that mean?” I say, sharper than I intended, and I instantly regret it when she turns red and looks down.

  “Forgive my brother, Layla,” Charlene says from behind me. “Surfing makes him hungry, and he gets cranky when he’s hungry.” She turns to me. “Fionn and the others went to see if John is back with the pizzas.”

  Then she mouths chill out.

  I put my sunglasses back on and settle back in my chair with my arms across my chest.

  “So, how do you know Cristiana?” Charlene asks Layla in an effort to smooth over my rudeness. She’s had to do that a lot today.

  “She’s on the dance team with Aileen. Ms. Hahn recruited her from another school because she’s such a good dancer.” I notice she looks down at her hands. “The girls aren’t real nice to her, though.”

  “Why not?” I surprise myself by asking, without taking my eyes off the girl. Hopefully they can’t tell I’m still watching her.

  “They just…” she sighs. “They say mean things.”

  “Like what?” Charlene asks, opening a water bottle.

  “Jeez, what don’t they say about her. They make comments about her body, make her feel like she doesn’t belong because she… well, she doesn’t exactly look like the other girls.” Layla sighs again. “I think they’re just jealous. She stands out because she’s really good, and they don’t like that she gets Ms. Hahn’s attention.”

  I hate that fucking dance team. It’s like a cult of cloned uppity, entitled, elitist bitches with that Hahn woman as their leader. She insists that everyone on the team look, move, and act the same. And because they are national champions, the school treats them like royalty, which only makes things worse. Not all the girls are bad people, I know, but the fact that Evileen is one of them explains a lot.

  And I don’t like that my angel dancer is one of them.

  “Hahn recruited her?” I ask before I can stop myself.

  “Yes,” Layla nods, turning toward me. “After the national championship last year, the team got put under a microscope, mainly for our lack of diversity, so she decided to recruit members from other districts.”

  “Humph,” Charlene says, sitting back in her chair. “I’m betting that didn’t fly over well. I know getting on the team is usually pretty cutthroat.” She sips her water quickly. “I heard that a girl tripped another in the hallway my freshman year and swore it was an accident.” She cuts her eyes to Layla and squints. “If that’s true, I don’t understand why it would be so important to be on that team, that you would hurt someone else on purpose.” She takes a deep breath and softens her voice. “My friend, Gina, was on the team our sophomore year. She says Ms. Hahn does her best to pit them against one another, telling the girls that a little competition is healthy, but all it actually does is create a breeding ground for bitchy attitudes or the need for years of therapy after it kills whatever shred of self-esteem a teenage dancer has.”

  Layla leans back in her chair and lowers her eyes again. “It’s a good thing to have on a resume. Many of the girls get scholarships or go on to become professional dancers and pro sports teams cheerleaders.” Her last words sound robotic, like it’s a repeated mantra.

  Charlene nods. “I get that,” she says sympathetically, “but I know Gina was forced to quit because she could never meet her ridiculous weight limit.”

  Layla nods nervously. “Yeah, Ms. Hahn strictly enforces those.”

  “I’m surprised the weight limits haven’t been the subject of an investigation.” Charlene turns places her hand on Layla’s knee, expressing genuine curiosity.
“I mean I only heard Gina’s side of the story, but let me ask you. Do girls really starve themselves and use laxatives to meet their weigh in each week?”

  Layla bites her lips together and averts her eyes. “Not that I’ve seen.”

  I can tell the girl just lied. She seems to know a lot about the team, but she’s too nice to be a member. I wonder how she knows so much and why Evileen would be friends with her.

  “You’re not on the team?” I ask, trying to flesh out why Layla would be friends with one of them. Usually, they pretend to like only each other while backstabbing their so-called friends, and they certainly don’t lower themselves to associate with the commoners.

  She blushes, glancing my way. Her mouth opens and closes a few times before she sighs. “Ms. Hahn is my aunt. She lets me act as a student manager.”

  Ah. Aileen was just using her to get closer to the aunt. Mystery solved.

  “She’s your aunt, yet you call her Ms. Hahn?” Charlene asks distractedly.

  Layla smiles. “It’s habit now. I’m not allowed to call her Aunt Trish at school. She doesn’t want the girls to know I’m her niece.”

  I raise an eyebrow, turning my full attention to Layla. “Did Aileen know?”

  She lowers her head and nods. “She must have heard me slip and call her Aunt at the team’s Christmas party last year.” Looking me in the eyes, she adds, “Right after that, she declared herself my best friend. I didn’t figure out why she wanted to be my friend until after last weekend. She called me, and I thought she was going to apologize. Instead, she kinda threatened me not to tell my aunt what happened.” She closes her eyes tightly like it hurts her. “She used the word ‘aunt.’ I had no clue she knew.” She again looks at her hands. “I feel so stupid. I thought she was actually my friend.”

  “Well,” Charlene pats her knee. “I’m your friend, and I know Fionn wants to be your more-than-friend.” She jumps up when the others approach. Layla rises, and Charlene puts her arm around her shoulders. “So let’s eat and really get this party started. I want to catch a couple more waves before it gets dark.”

  I watch them walk away, gaining a new respect for my sister. The way she includes Layla and doesn’t make her feel bad for defending her aunt is admirable.

  I take the opportunity to focus back on Cristiana, who thankfully now wears a tank top; it makes me feel like less of a creepy asshole. She’s still dancing with a couple of other girls, luckily not to the same song. Looking around at the group she’s with, I see one guy sitting off to the side watching her, too. Anger takes over me, not because he’s watching her, but because of the way he’s watching. The look on his face… it’s not appreciation. Hell, it’s not even lust. I’ve never quite seen it before. His face is angry… menacing. I get a feeling he’s dangerous. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s thinking of ways to… hurt her.

  I need to find a way to fuse the two parties. Operation Protect Cristiana will be put in motion, that is once I come up with a plan.

  ***

  “I’m employing my brother card,” I say quietly to Charlene as we throw away the empty pizza boxes. “Please, just take Layla over there and strike up a conversation with that girl. Invite her and her friends over here to hang out.”

  “That girl has a name.”

  “Yes, I know.” I try to relax my jaw so that it doesn’t come out through clenched teeth. “Cristiana.”

  She turns to face me fully so she can study my expression. “Only if you tell me why you are asking me to do this.”

  I glare at her, hoping my face shows nothing.

  She turns away from me, carefully throwing her trash away. “Either tell me, or the answer is no.”

  “Fine,” I grunt, rolling my eyes. “There’s a dude over there who keeps creeping on her. I want to get her away from him.”

  Raising her eyebrow, a move she does when she thinks I’m full of shit, she smirks.

  “You sure that’s it?”

  I resume my glaring, praying she doesn’t see another reason.

  “When you want a favor, Noah, it’s not cool to mad dog me.”

  She lifts her arm to move me out of the way and pushes past me. I watch her talk to Layla, who seems reluctant to invade the other party. I have faith, though. If my sister will win any awards, it will be for persuading people to do stuff outside their comfort zone. Pushy should be her middle name.

  As I settle back into my chair and adjust my sunglasses, they both walk over to the other party. My sister moves confidently. Layla stays two steps behind with her head down. I almost feel bad for getting her tangled up in my mess. Almost, but not enough to stop it.

  Cristiana sees the girls approach and stiffens. Finally, I get graced with a full view of her face. She is… God… She’s… breathtaking. Full lips, high cheeks, white teeth, a hint of a dimple in her left cheek. She smiles, but her body language is still guarded.

  Charlene does her thing, getting Layla to chill and making Cristiana laugh, including the other girls from Cristiana’s group, like she was born to do it.

  I sit back in my chair, only watching out of the corner of my eye. I don’t want to seem like I’m interested in anything with this girl. I’m gonna have to fight this, whatever it is I have, and play it cool. I won’t talk to her. Fuck, I won’t even look at her. I just want her away from that dickhead, or really, I want both of them over here so I can keep a closer eye on them.

  He’s still watching her, but he seems to be like a normal guy now. However, I saw what I saw. I get very strong weirdo vibes from him.

  Why has no one else noticed how he looks at her? Fucking pricks.

  “What’s Layla doin’ over there?” Fionn asks from my left.

  I shoot a glance his direction. “Charlene dragged her over there to ask that girl she knows from school if she wants to come over and have some pizza.”

  I feel Fionn staring at me.

  “Did ye ask her to do it?”

  I turn my head his direction and do nothing but smile.

  “Is it because of that guy?” he asks.

  My smile fades, and I nod. Fionn had learned my habits and has taken on a few of them.

  He stands and rolls his eyes. “I’ll go help them.”

  I lay back against the chair again and close my eyes. I can hear others from Charlene’s group of friends make their way over to where they are, so my plan to fuse the parties is working, just not like I’d hoped it would.

  I wanted her closer.

  But this will have to do… for now.

  Three

  I jump when the cold bottle lands on my chest. “You’re welcome,” Charlene says as I open the water she just brought me. “You know, most guys, if they’re interested in a girl, will, I dunno, at least try to talk to her.”

  I take a long drink from the bottle, taking a minute to swallow. “I’m not interested.”

  “Right,” she says, lowering her voice. “And I’m just supposed to ignore the fact that you’re working too hard to make it look like you’re not watching her.”

  I grind my teeth determined to not give her anything. “I told you –”

  “I know what you said, dumbass.” She smirks. “I also know you’re lying.” She does that thing where she sucks her tongue over her teeth making that stupid noise just to annoy me. “You think she’s hot.”

  I shake my head. “She’s too young for me.”

  “She’s almost sixteen, and you won’t be eighteen for a month.”

  I pull down my sunglasses and level my eyes at my sister. “She’s. Too. Young.” She rolls her eyes, and goes to say something else, but I interrupt her. “Like I told you… I just can’t shake the feeling she’s in danger.”

  “From her family?”

  I nod to the other group. “That guy is not her family.”

  “Yeah, well, I think you’re crazy. He’s been talking to us. His name’s Frankie, and he’s pretty cool.” She pats my knee before she stands. “So you can stand down.”

&
nbsp; I look around quickly and don’t see Cristiana… or Frankie.

  That prickly feeling I get on the back of my neck when something bad is about to happen rages to life. Ripping my sunglasses off my face, I stand, studying the faces of everyone in our group to see if I see anything off. There is nothing visibly wrong, but I still can’t shake my rising fear. I can taste it on my tongue… she’s in danger.

  Grabbing Charlene’s arm, I try to sound like I’m not freaking the fuck out. “Where’d she go?”

  Before she has a chance to answer, I push past her, grab my t-shirt, and pull it over my head, moving in the direction of the portable bathrooms – the kind that seem like a person could catch any number of wicked diseases just from walking past them. I make a concerted effort to slow my steps, even though everything inside me is screaming that I need to hurry.

  I hear something from behind the line of blue buildings, so I follow.

  As I get closer, a rapid-fire assault of angry Spanish accompanied by the sounds of fists hitting flesh become clear. I see limbs flying, furiously smacking and kicking. Cristiana is beating the shit out of someone.

  I rush up to her and wrap her in a submission hold, lifting her off the ground to carry her a few feet away. When her foot connects with my shin, I almost drop her on the sand, but I manage to keep my arms locked around her.

  She is still yelling in Spanish, and since my experience with the language didn’t go past my Freshmen year, I have no clue what she is saying.

  “If you’ll calm down, I’ll let you go.”

  “Fuck you, güero. You don’t know what he said to me.”

  I look over at the lump of human moaning on the ground. Turns out I was right to be worried about her. It’s the weirdo.

  “I’m sure he deserved the beat down, but I’m trying to protect you right now. From an outsider’s standpoint, it looked like you were pounding the crap out of him.”

  She relaxes in my arms. “Yeah, well,” she clears her throat to try to strengthen her voice, “he hit me first.”