by Avery Abbott
Although, sometimes I wondered how I would have turned out if things were different. If Mom had stayed, or if instead of giving us Legos from Goodwill with missing pieces to build, Dad would have set us up with board games like Monopoly or Operation when I was younger. Maybe I would have become a Wall Street banker, or a doctor, maybe a gynecologist, a podiatrist or even a proctologist. I could almost hear it now: Paging Dr. Kane, Dr. Kane there’s an asshole waiting. But no. We grew up alone to fend for ourselves. My brother had a thing for cars and knew Smokey and the guys. Jacob taught me all he knew until he left to fight for our country.
“Got a job for you.” Smokey informed me.
“What is it?”
“Brunette, Beach Bunny. I’ve been watching her for almost twenty minutes. Sitting on the bench at Mission and San Gabriel…ripe for the picking.”
“On it.” I hung up, stepped out of my coveralls and tossed them to the side. I nabbed my keys off the desk and strolled out to my beautiful ride, my custom-made Fat Boy Harley Davidson—cost a mint, but she was worth every damned penny.
I parked my bike fifteen minutes later where Smokey told me I’d find her. I opened my saddle bag and grabbed a towel I kept in there alongside some extra clothes. I opted for the fresh off the beach look, and slipped out of my jeans and slipped on my trunks and stuffed those inside, and then locked her up. I didn’t give a shit who saw me naked, plus it was a rare day, I was wearing briefs.
She must be something to look at if Smoke had me down here instead of in the shop. I rounded the corner to see a slight figure, hunched over, sobbing. Fuck it!
We might not be a legit hardcore MC club anymore, but I never said we were a bunch of angels, either.
I clapped my hands. “Show time, little bunny.
Chapter 3
SHAW
I found myself rooted in the same spot I’d been coming to for the last few days. My eyes trained on the ocean, ears listening to the calming waves as they hit the shore with hardly anyone in sight…peaceful. It was my preferred time. Early evening after all the beach-goers headed home to shower and primped for their night out.
It was weird, all this solitude in my life now. Before it was Mom and I conquering the world day by day, or Tommy all up in my business, or heck even douche canoe Garrett, but now I was all alone fending for myself. I figured Mom did this at my age, heck, even a year younger than me, so I could handle it with as much grace as she had.
Tommy called daily, wanting to come out to see me, but I refused him each time. He finally relented with promises of more phone calls and visits whenever possible. (Although, my phone was stolen yesterday while I took a long swim in the warm waters of the Pacific) Anyway, over the last few days, I sort of got the knack for the whole solitude thing, almost as if it had become my new best friend.
This spot was where I did my deep thinking about where life was taking me. If God had meant for all this to happen, and if He did…why? People say He’d only give you what you can handle, well,…I didn’t believe them one iota, because even though I was managing, it was hard as hell going it alone. I swiped the tears streaming down my cheeks as I thought of Mom and how alone I’d been feeling the last night or two.
When I couldn’t sleep I could hear all the noises I wasn’t meant to, like a headboard banging against my shared wall, trash can lids hitting the pavement, and dogs barking making me wonder what they were barking about. I knew Mom was gone, but for some reason it sort of just hit me like a freight train today, and I just needed to hear her calming voice telling me all would be okay.
“Hey, you okay?” A deep voice boomed from behind me.I didn’t know where he came from, but I found myself looking in to a pair of hauntingly-beautiful suede-blue eyes that sucked me in like the Bermuda triangle. My gaze trailed from those blues down to his bare feet and slowly they made their way back up, and immediately I felt like I was at the mall staring at a live Hollister billboard covered in tattoos and it was talking to me. Well, a billboard with a bright ocean blue beach towel draped over his shoulder and barely covering his big, beautiful muscles and washboard abs.
“Hey, Sunshine, you okay?” He stepped closer and asked me again.
Rule # 4: Always tell the truth. Liars suck!
“Not really,” I whispered, swiping the remaining tears with the back of my hand.
“Anything I can do to help?”
I softly smiled at his gesture. “Wish you could, but no.”
He sat beside me, tossing his towel and a set of keys in between us. I found myself focusing on the dolphin stretched across it, wondering if I should bail, when I heard him say, “I can certainly try.”
Without looking up and remaining focused on his towel, I answered, “I need a job. I’ve applied to several, but no one has called me back.” Finally, I allowed myself to look up to find a pair of warm, kind, captivating eyes studying me. “It’s only been a week, but I’m sort of desperate.” I didn’t know why I was sharing my problems with a complete stranger, but a little piece of me hoped he was the answer to all my prayers. Like maybe my mother had sent him to me in my time of need. Stupid, I know, but it helped me deal with her loss, thinking she was watching over me.
The corner of his mouth lifted slightly, his eyes assessing me. “I can take care of that. Ever, uh…” he paused, shaking his head, “wait tables?”
“Not really, but I did scoop ice cream for a year at the mall, and I taught yoga all last year. I’m a fast learner.” I answered, glad to feel hopeful for the first time since I’d gotten here. I smiled gingerly back, realizing my tears had diminished. I must have looked like a babbling idiot to a guy like him. He was what my mother would have called a Stud Muffin. I giggled at the thought.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing. So, do you know someone hiring people with very little experience?”
He sat back, rested his arm across the bench, and shot me a wink. “It’s good enough.” He looked out to the ocean and I couldn’t help but wonder if he wished he could take back his gracious offer. We sat in an uncomfortable silence for a few seconds before he added, “By any chance, are you hungry?”
I shrugged. I was and it made wonder if he could read my mind since right before he sat down I was thinking of my mediocre scraps at the motel. I was starving in fact, but too afraid to blow through my mediocre savings by wasting it on anything other than PB&J at this point. And since my mother taught me to never look a gift horse in the mouth, I accepted though, warily.
He stood and held out his hand for me to take. I noticed it was rough looking, calloused, like he used his hands to make his money. When he noticed me staring, he rescinded the gesture, wiping back his shaggy light brown bangs. “Let me grab my shirt and shoes from my bike and we can walk to this place I know that’s hiring.”
My radar went off; although it apparently was a sucky one, seeing it never went off over the asshole, to whom, I gave six months of my life. “That’s really sweet, but…”
He winked again and instead of finding it sexy, like I think he meant it to be, I found it to be more of a friendly gesture—an olive branch of sorts. “Wait here. Be right back.” He jogged off and I admit to staring at his glorious retreating figure, one even a nun wouldn’t be able to resist. I took too long trying to decipher if he was a mass murderer or just a kind, hot dude who got off on helping damsels in distress when I saw him coming toward me wearing a huge, confident smile.
He changed out of his board shorts, swapping them for a pair of jeans, a blue tee and brown worn in leather flip-flops. Which led me to wonder if he had just stripped out in the open air since he was so fast in returning to me, I had barely blinked. “C’mon,” he held out his hand, which I couldn’t help but find slightly odd…this instant turbo friendship.
If anything, my mom always taught me over the years to be skeptical about everything and everyone. Another rule I sucked at.
Rule # 5: Trust only your mother and yourself.
Clearing my throa
t, I pushed off the bench, wrapping my arms safely around my waist to avoid touching him. I admit I could be naïve, I knew I could, it was one of the few things my mother used to yell at me about…way too trusting she would say. And being naïve and trusting had led me astray with Garrett. Mr. Hollister (I dubbed him) laughed at my wariness, but instead of waiting on me, he started ahead, walking casually in front of me, occasionally looking back every few seconds to see if I was following.
After a minute or so of debate, I did. My head told me to run the opposite way, but my heart screamed out for a friend, just one to help me get by, and if this friend could help me land a job, I’d chalk that up as a huge bonus. I also determined that minute walking on the boardwalk, which was semi-busy, was safe from any attempt of being kidnapped, so I trailed behind, still cautious about his intentions. He was extremely polite about it in the way he kept slightly ahead of me, almost like he knew I was questioning his end game, but each time he looked back, he just shyly grinned, making my knees wobble.
After five or so minutes, he stopped, gesturing to a restaurant. I peered behind him, instantly beaming in delight. And, even sent a quick thank you to my mom for making sure he wasn’t a total creeper.“Cool place, huh?”
There was an outside ledge with stools so you could face the ocean while sipping on cocktails, and a few scattered tables outside with cute green chairs. I sidestepped him to find countless tables inside with benches, and cozy welcoming booths in a sea-foam green. It had a huge bar with beach décor scattered throughout, and various signs announcing things like happy hour and today’s specials. I wasn’t even paying attention to him until he came to stand behind me, his hands suddenly running down my arms, causing me to shiver. “Go grab some stools outside and I’ll grab us some drinks.”
I froze because the maneuver had me instantly growing concerned how he suddenly was in my private space, but it also caused me to reveal my age, which meant I might not be old enough to work here. I spun out of his invading hands. “I’m not old enough to drink.”
“Don’t matter to me, Sunshine. Now what’ll it be?” He shot me a wicked smile, one that told me to be careful, but one that also seemed to ignite a little fire inside of me, but I ignored that part.
So, I smiled back, pretending to get lost in his charming, toothy grin, wanting a job so bad, I’d play the role for now. Instead of focusing on my nerves, I listened to the sound of seagulls squawking and waves crashing against the shoreline. People, AKA witnesses, were scattered all around. “Maybe a frozen Piña Colada?” It was the first thing I could think of, since my mom would make me virgin ones all the time in the hot summer heat of Arizona.
He sauntered off to the bar inside as I made my way out to find two chairs facing the boardwalk. I sighed at the soothing sound of the beach, one that played like a medicinal cure to anything. And I enjoyed the fact I could still hear those waves over the soft Caribbean music the restaurant was playing in the background.
Minutes later he came back with a bottle of beer and my drink with a little yellow umbrella, which had a pineapple wedge and a cherry attached to it. He handed it off and before anyone said another word, I ate the fruit because my stomach was starting to rumble embarrassingly since I hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast and that was only a spoonful (okay, five) of peanut butter.
“So,” I placed my drink down and looked around. “Do you know the owner of this place or something?”
“You can say that.” His eyes found mine, both of us staring a beat too long, causing me to shift gears and focus on my drink and the way the condensation ran down the glass, instead of the intensity of his piercing gaze. It felt like I was some geometry problem he was trying to solve and I felt myself blush.
It was warm out tonight, and I wanted nothing more than to toss back the drink to cool me a little, so I tentatively peered over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching. No one was paying me any mind but him, smiling at me like I was still some enigma he was determined to figure out.
“You can drink that, you know.” He looked out to the water and took a sip of his own.
Figuring, screw it, I lifted the glass, pulled the straw into my mouth, sucking back the coconut flavored drink and allowing it to cool my throat.
He groaned beside me, but quickly caught that I had heard his rudeness, typical guy. Instead of saying he was sorry, he aimlessly started picking the label off his beer, when I realized a couple things.
“You know, I never caught your name.” He licked his lips, about to answer, when a voice carried over us. “Caleb mentioned you were looking for me. What can I do for you, Boyscout?” A woman appeared behind us, looking none too pleased.
“Fi, I’d like you to meet…uh, what’s your name, Sunshine?”
This Fi rolled her eyes, but smiled politely back to him. I took her in quickly and got the feeling rolling her eyes toward him was common ground. She looked to be in her early forties, with super kind tawny brown eyes that matched the shade of her hair, and I couldn’t help but wonder if she did that on purpose, or if all of it was au naturel. She also seemed to have spent too much time in the sun considering her tanned, wrinkled skin, albeit she was still beautiful though. Part of me wanted to give her one of my mother’s infamous lectures about sunscreen, but the other part wanted a job, so I let it go, figuring if she hired me, then I could lecture her later down the road.
Rule # 6: You can never wear too much sunscreen, but embrace the vitamin D every chance you get. It’s the best medicine besides laughter.
I checked her out; she was wearing a tiny pair of jean shorts, and a tight black shirt engraved with gold letters announcing MB Surf and Grill, both of which she pulled off very nicely with her slender body.
I held my hand out. “It’s Shaw. Shaw Hayes.”
She took mine, smiling warmly down at me, instantly making me feel comfortable. “Nice to meet you, Shaw.” She returned her focus on him. “What can I do for you, Scout?”
So, that was his name? Weird, but at this point if he got me a job I’d call him whatever he wanted me to. As I tried to decipher why his mother would name him such an odd thing, (although, I could empathize) I heard him say, “Shaw, here, needs a job, pronto.”
Her eyes landed back on me, giving me a quick once over. “You old enough to serve alcohol, Honey?”
I started to admit that I might not be, but he cut me off, “Yeah, she is, Fi.”
“Scout,” she protested, but he cut her off too.
“I said she is, Fiona. Make it happen and no background bullshit. She can get paid in cash for a little until I talk to the guys.”
He turned from her as I sat back down nervously at the tone he used with her, wondering who he was to her. “You got a cell, Shaw?”
I shook my head. “It was stolen, but I’m borrowing one for now.” The front desk had been nice enough to let me borrow theirs for the time being and even let me use theirs for the myriad of applications I was waiting to hear back from. I was sure pretty Jerry at the front desk took a liking to me, and as much as I hated to use my femininity as a weapon, I did and I wouldn’t let myself regret it. It was do or die, right?
His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized me like I’d been lying to him, but suddenly he turned back to Fiona. “She can do the morning shift; not many people drinking at ten a.m.”
I interjected. “I can do any shift, really. I would just be super thankful for the chance.”
His eyes darted to mine, shutting me up, but they softened for a beat before he trained them back on her.“But they drink come lunch and you know it,” she said and I knew she was right, which meant no job.
He stood, leaning toward her, and I couldn’t help but notice it garnered an immediate reaction from her as she flinched back. “Make it happen, Fi.”
I peeked over his shoulder, trying to alleviate the obvious discomfort. “I’m nineteen, almost twenty. What’s the serving age in California?”
Immediately she relaxed. “Eighteen, Sugar. You’re f
ine, then.” She spun to walk off, but halted her steps. “What size shirt? Small or extra small?”
“A small is fine,” I answered her, excited.
“Extra small, Fi,” Scout fired back.
“Small,” I countered.“You want good tips?”
“Of course, I do.”
“Grab an extra small, Fiona and,” he paused to look at me, “you like fish?”
I nodded, trying to figure out his mojo. “And two orders of the fish tacos with sides of fries.”
She left.
I turned to face to face the water, filled with doubt and not liking the fact he seemed to used intimidation on Fiona to employ me. “I don’t know if this is a good idea. You practically threatened her to hire me.”
He ignored my comment and continued to stare out over the beach along with me, sipping on his beer. “I know it’s not my business, but I’ve been dying to ask you since I found you sitting on the bench crying.”
I swallowed. “What?”
“Those tears? Were they there because of someone or something?”
“Both, I guess. Life can sure take a turn for the worse when you’re least expecting it.”
“That life? Is that what you call covering up the black eye with make-up?” My hand flew to my face, feeling the slight welt that hadn’t gone down yet.
“How did you…”
He placed his fingers down on my thigh, stopping me from finishing my question.“Seen it before. You okay, though?”
“I am now.” He squeezed my leg, bobbing his head satisfied with my answer. I closed my eyes, and threw his hand off me and stood nervously.
He held up his hands. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
I wrapped my arms around my waist. “No, you shouldn’t have.
He cleared his throat. “You from around here, Shaw?”