High Tide

by Michelle Mankin

  “Like the flip of a switch. From boo-hoo to back to being mad at me.”

  Diesel released me, took a step back, and inclined his head toward my room.

  “Go get dressed so I can deliver you to your sister. I need to get my good deed for the day done.”

  I glanced at Diesel from the passenger seat. “Fanny said you went back home recently.”

  We were only halfway into the drive to Ocean Beach, but the silence between us had already gotten to me.

  “I did.” His gaze straight ahead, his grip on the Woodie’s steering wheel tightened.

  “You didn’t stay long.” I studied his profile, noting the tension in his jaw. “It seems like you went there and then turned right around and came back.”

  “You keeping tabs on me?” He gave me a quick side glance, his dark eyes narrowing as he refocused on the road. We had long ago left behind the more significant traffic snarls in LA, but the five lanes heading toward the SoCal beaches remained congested.

  “That’s a really long plane ride.”

  “Five hours.” He shrugged.

  “Isn’t your part on Ramon’s solo album already done?”

  “It is.”

  “You don’t usually hang around OB much unless it’s to work.”

  “I don’t.” He gave me another narrow-eyed side glance.

  “Are you going to give me more than two-word answers to my questions?”

  “Probably not.”

  His hands loosened on the wheel, his lips curled, and the crescents reappeared. Even in profile, the sight of his amusement made my stomach crest and flip over like the barrels he surfed on his cream-colored board.

  “It’s a long drive,” I said, “and it’ll go a lot faster if we talk. As in a back-and-forth conversation where actual interesting information is exchanged.” Amusement of my own in response to his played on my lips.

  Diesel’s heavy come-on routine was annoying but expected. That aside, he had a unique sense of humor that I found appealing. Plus, I was genuinely curious. No one seemed to know much about him, or maybe I’d been too circumspect in my questioning.

  “Not in the habit of conversing with chicks when one or two words get me what I need. Strip. Spread. That’s it. Come, baby. Come now. Thanks, baby. Gotta go.”

  My cheeks flamed as I imagined the scenario he described, as he’d fully intended that I do.

  The low timbre of his voice resonated inside the boat-like interior of my sister’s vintage automobile. It also resonated to deeper places inside me than I cared to admit, since there was nothing between Diesel and me, and there never would be. I had enough experience to know to steer clear of confirmed player types like him.

  I shook my head at him. “You’ve got no respect for women.”

  “Not known many worth respecting.”

  “Surely your mother—”

  “The woman that birthed me was married to someone else when she hooked up with my old man.” He spat the explanation at me as if extracting venom from a poisoned wound. “She gave me up as soon as she had me. Couldn’t move on to her next diversion fast enough.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, noticing his tightened grip on the steering wheel.

  “Don’t feel sorry for me. I didn’t know her. Don’t care to. It’s in the past. The past doesn’t affect me.”

  “Yet it feels like a rejection,” I whispered beneath my breath, thinking about my unknown biological father.

  “How do you figure that?”

  “It’s a lot like my story.”

  “In what way?” His gaze was as hard as the packed sand beneath the OB pier.

  Emotions that had long been dammed up inside me suddenly and unexpectedly spilled out.

  “Samuel’s not my real father. You probably know that. Everyone knows. It’s a relief that he isn’t, of course.” My hands twisted together in my lap. Knowing we weren’t related made all the times I’d failed to meet his expectations hurt less. Didn’t it? “The man who is my biological father and Fanny’s never attempted to contact us. Never cared to contact us. Obviously.”

  Those were the facts. It was also all in the past. But the emotions associated with that past hurt in the here and now.

  “Getting someone pregnant doesn’t make you a parent,” Diesel said.

  I lifted my gaze from my lap to find him watching me with a soft understanding in his eyes that I’d never seen before. Those dark pools of liquid empathy mesmerized me.

  “Your old man—both of them, Samuel and the other douche—and my old lady.” He exhaled dismissively. “Some people are just shit. It’s on them that they’re assholes, not you and me.” He flicked the blinker hard to take the next exit.

  I felt bad for Fanny’s Wagon. It was taking a beating from the bassist today. And I realized that there was a lot more to Diesel than I’d previously imagined.

  “So, your dad raised you?”

  Diesel nodded.

  “Alone? No siblings?” Getting details out of him was more difficult than extracting character motivations from a bare-bones script.

  “Yeah.”

  “What was that like?” I asked. “I imagine growing up in Hawaii is different than here.”

  His brow dipped. He was quiet for so long, I assumed he wasn’t going to answer.

  “It was pretty fuckin’ awesome, if you wanna know the truth.” He gave me a side glance, and I nodded, hoping he might elaborate. “I put up with a lot of shit on account of not having a mom. That kept me from appreciating it as much as I should have.”

  “Is your dad . . . gone?” I held my breath. He obviously cared for his father. And I knew how difficult it was to lose a parent.

  “Not gone. But diminished in a way that’s frustrating for him.”

  “How so?”

  “He can’t surf anymore.”

  “Oh. Well, that’s not so bad.”

  “Maybe to someone who doesn’t surf. But for a surfer, for one living in Hawaii, it’s like an entire part of your existence has died.”

  “Your dad’s Hawaiian?”

  “My mother is, my father’s Vietnamese. His father came to the island after fighting with the north in the Vietnam War. My mother’s dad and my dad were close. My grandfather taught my dad to surf, and my dad taught me. We used to surf every day. School. Work. Meals. Everything in our life was scheduled around the favorability of the forecast. If the waves were good, then we were out in the water together.”

  “That sounds really nice.” I felt privileged that a man who was so prone to monosyllabic explanations had shared so much detail with me. So I shared too. “My mom and I watched films together. Went to plays. Discussed craft. Acting techniques.” We even shared the same musical tastes that were far different from Fanny’s.

  “Sounds like you had a lot in common,” he said softly.

  “Losing her was more than just losing a parent. I lost my best friend.” My brows drew together. “Why can’t your father surf anymore?”

  “Arthritis. It’s gotten so bad, I had to move him into one of those assisted-living places. He’s mad at me for putting him there. He doesn’t like it. That’s why I went back recently. To try to smooth things over with him.”

  “Did you?”

  “Not hardly. He’s not talking to me.” Which explained the brackets of tension around Diesel’s eyes that I hadn’t noticed before.

  “I’m sure it’s hard to give up something that’s such a big part of his life, and the life you and he had together.” Giving up acting would feel like I was giving up a part of my mom when I had so very little of her left to hold on to.

  “Yeah.” He turned his head, giving me a longer assessing look. “What about you?”

  “What about me?” I instantly tensed.

  “What was it like for Holliewood growing up?” His lips twitched. “Your turn to spill. Give me details. More than two words.”

  “The opposite of awesome.”

  Diesel scoffed. “Surely with a sister like Fanny a
nd living in a big mansion with servants and shit, it wasn’t all bad.”

  “She and my mom were definite bright spots. I had plenty to eat and a roof over my head.” It was the day-to-day happenings that occurred underneath that roof that was mostly bad. Changing the subject, I said, “I’d rather not talk about it. Birthday prerogative and all,” I added when it seemed like he might press. “Hey, why are you turning here?”

  I needed to get Diesel’s mind off me as a subject. I’d said too much on the current topic, revealed too much about myself to a man who certainly didn’t really want to know deep, dark secrets about me.

  “Going the back way around to avoid the weekend tourist traffic on Newport.” His black brows drawing together, he shot me a curious look that I avoided by turning away.

  Out my window, Mexican fan palms lined the sidewalk and stretched a hundred feet up into the cloudless sky. The uninterrupted blue reminded me of Max’s eyes. Avoiding a discussion about the past, I got slammed by unsettled feelings in the present.

  I sighed and rolled down the window. Sticking my face into the wind, I inhaled deeply, regulating my breathing. It was my birthday. Exhale. One. Two. Three. I untwisted the knot in my hands. Inhale. One. Two. Three.

  It was time for me to stop being a little girl. If Max didn’t contact me today, I would get in touch with him. Somehow. I was done running around in circles inside my head about him.

  “Glad to be back?” Diesel asked.

  “Sure, I like Ocean Beach.”

  It was a laidback surf town filled with bungalows and Mediterranean-style houses. No two were identical, and every yard seemed to utilize the space they had for growing something. Birds of paradise, green bushes with white plumeria flowers, and hot pink bougainvillea vines that trailed along white picket fences. The setting was similar to LA, but OB was a lot more casual, more relaxing.

  “But I didn’t really get to see much when I was here, nothing beyond the view from the slats in the sub-pump structure or the deck of Ash’s rooftop.”

  “Have you missed your sister?”

  I turned my head away from the ocean that had just come into view as we reached our destination. “Definitely.”

  “She misses you. You’re all she can talk about. She’s been running us all around like crazy getting ready for this party.” He swept his gaze over my face.

  “She’s the best.” And I was going to have to store up as much of her affection as I could. “I miss all the friends I made while I was here.” Being so busy at work, and with Ernie out of my life and now with Max gone, I felt more isolated than ever.

  “Even me?”

  Diesel’s tone was teasing, but for a moment, I thought I saw a glimmer of something more, something serious, but then I heard a scream and turned to see my sister. Her hair was a red streak of color as she dashed across the parking lot of the Deck Bar, impossible to miss.

  “Fanny!” I reached for the door handle as Diesel inched the Wagon toward a parking spot.

  “Hold up.” He stretched his arm across the bench seat. “Wait until the vehicle is completely stopped.”

  Ignoring the heat from where the skin of his arm had connected with my chest, I threw open my door and jumped out.

  “Hols!” Fanny flew at me, practically knocking me over.

  I stumbled backward, surprised to run into a wall—a living, breathing, tropically scented wall. How had he moved so fast?

  “Careful, beautiful.” Diesel’s fingers were warm on my shoulders, steadying me as my sister’s arms went around my waist.

  I threw my arms around her and embraced her just as tightly.

  “What took you so long?” She eased back to look at me. “And you’re too skinny. How much weight have you lost?”

  “Can I—”

  “Did you stop to get her lunch?” Her lips pursed, she glared at Diesel.

  I swiveled my head to glance at him.

  “She wouldn’t let me run her through the drive-through.” He crossed his arms over his chest, and the breeze tossed his curls into his grin. The way his muscles flexed made me feel light-headed. “She insisted on getting here as fast as possible to see you.”

  “Is that right?” Fanny frowned at me.

  “Do I get to answer for myself now?” I lifted a brow.

  “Oh, you!” She gathered me close again. “I missed every single sarcastic inch of you. I love you.”

  My return “I love you” got muffled into her chest.

  Finally, I choked out, “Can’t . . . breathe.”

  “Oops.” Her hold loosening, she eased back but did it with a smile.

  My eyes glistened with unshed happy tears, just like hers.

  “Hollie!” an unfamiliar voice screamed. “Holliewood!”

  “Shit!” Fanny said, and she and I exchanged a glance as a boy in bright yellow swim trunks grabbed his two friends. Slamming their car doors, they moved our way.

  “I forgot my glasses and scarf.” I turned to get them out of the car but stopped when someone else screamed my name from the other side of the lot.

  “No time.” Diesel slid his hand along the exposed skin on my lower back. “We need to get you inside. Get a move on, Fanny. I’ve got her.”

  He escorted me, yet I stumbled. His touch was doing weird things to my equilibrium.

  “You okay?” His dark eyes glimmered in the sun.

  “Yes. No.”

  A line of sensation zinged from his fingers to a certain spot between my legs that I always seemed to be extremely aware of whenever he was around. I was suddenly glad, and not glad at the same time, that I’d worn a white halter dress with a cutout in the back.

  “Which is it?” he asked.

  Of two minds, I stumbled to answer. “I, um . . .” Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a surge of movement.

  “Do I need to carry you?”

  “No!”

  “Then move faster.”

  “I would if you’d stop crowding me.” I got my legs moving, and my singular opinion regarding him returned.

  “Not me you have to worry about. It’s that group of rabid-looking boys heading straight toward you.”

  Following his gaze, I didn’t watch where I was going and tripped on a water bowl someone had left outside for dogs.

  “Carrying you.”

  Flashes of light from cell cameras captured him capturing me.

  Lifted into Diesel’s strong arms, I twined my arms around his neck, and he cradled me carefully against his solid chest. It felt amazingly good to be there, and I marveled at his strength as he took the stairs two at a time while carrying me.

  At the top of the stairs, he walked inside the bar and set me down. “That was close.”

  I slid along the contours of his body. As I encountered the thick, hard, impressive length of him, my breath caught.

  “Say the word, beautiful.” His eyes flashed heat that I felt everywhere as he peered down at me. “Anytime. Any place—”

  “Diesel!” A beautiful brunette with boobs bigger than mine suddenly appeared. “Excuse me, honey.”

  When she wedged herself between Diesel and me, that was my cue to wake up from the spell he’d put me under. I backed away, telling myself I was grateful for the interruption. It was a lie I couldn’t even sell to myself.

  Maybe I was a shit actress after all.

  “Don’t you dare. Don’t even think about it.” Fanny took my hand and led me away from Diesel.

  “Don’t think about what?” I asked.

  “Do not get tangled up with Diesel Le.” Leading me to the shiny mahogany bar in the middle of the space, she stopped. “He’s a total manwhore, Hollie.”

  “I know that.”

  I followed the direction of her gaze, my mouth parting in shock as the brunette trailed her hand down his chest, directly to the part of him that had hardened and lengthened for me only a moment before.

  I snapped my attention back to Fanny. “And for the record, I wasn’t—”

  “H
ols, you were. You were looking at him all googly-eyed. I was standing right there. I saw everything.”

  Heat warmed my cheeks. “He’s not as bad as everyone thinks.”

  “He is. And he’s earned every bit of his bad reputation.”

  “Maybe not all bad.” But I was admittedly curious about the disreputable part.

  “You’re far too quick to believe in the good in people.” She cocked her head, studying me.

  “In certain circumstances, where it’s justified, yes.”

  “In no circumstances that involve him having his arms around you and his lips near your mouth should you believe anything he says.”

  “I tripped. He carried me inside. It didn’t mean anything.”

  “He just wants to get you in his bed.” Fanny narrowed her eyes. “Don’t even contemplate it. He’s guaranteed trouble you don’t need.”

  A boisterous laugh suddenly split the air, and I turned toward the sound.

  A blond who resembled a Norse god had his head thrown back. Ashland Keys had arrived. Ramon Martinez, the Dirt Dogs’ handsome Hispanic guitarist, and Lincoln Savage, the equally handsome lead singer, accompanied him. With Diesel, all the Dirt Dogs were in the bar, increasing the hotness factor exponentially. Wearing flip-flops, board shorts, and tank tops, they all looked SoCal relaxed.

  The brunette was gone, but apparently Diesel was recapping about her to his friends. Biceps flexed, he traced the air as if outlining the curves of a voluptuous woman.

  “Where’s Karen and Simone?” I asked, pretending I didn’t experience a flutter in my chest when Diesel turned my way, his gaze connecting with mine.

  “They’re picking up the cake. The guys are on decorating duty. I’m delegating responsibilities because I wanted a chance to visit with you for a bit, just the two of us.”

  “I’d like that.” I disengaged my eyes from the bassist, noting as I did that my sister’s guy was staring at us. His brow creased over his ocean-blue eyes. “Not sure Ash is going to be happy with me commandeering your attention.”

  Fanny glanced at him, her expression going warm with affection I could practically feel. “He’ll be okay for a little while.”