My brother is a romantic. He married the girl he went to senior prom with. I know he’ll understand when I tell him the full truth.
“Alright man,” he replies. “You know I still think you’re crazy to be out there for a whole week, but if it’s for a girl, I approve.”
“All the better knowing that you approve,” I say with a huge smile on my face. “We’ll talk soon. Send my love to the girls.”
“Alright brother. Talk soon.”
I hang up as the house I’ve rented comes into view up the road. It’s quaint, cute, and perfect. I think I could actually live out here. I slam the car door shut, punctuating the peaceful evening.
3
Claire
Brynn scrambles into the back seat and I make sure she’s buckled in before going over to the driver’s side of my beat-up little Toyota. Next to me, Cassie shakes a paper bag of fries toward me and I reach in to grab a few.
“You have to admit that it could be worse,” she says, putting the end of a crinkle-cut into her mouth. I check behind me (of course there’s no other cars in the restaurant parking lot) and take a bite of the seasoned curly fry I pulled out of the bag. For dinner we usually have leftover fries that haven’t made their way from the frier to people’s plates, and because we serve four different kinds of fries, there are four different kinds of fries in the bag.
“You’re absolutely right,” I say, checking my rearview. “We could be stuck with only steak fries.”
The two of us shudder at the thought.
“Not enough surface area for the crunchy bits to form,” Brynn contributes casually from the back seat.
“What’s even the point of steak fries?” I reply.
There’s a beat of silence. Sometimes Cassie and I get worked up about the little things. Things that don’t matter. Sometimes I think it’s because we don’t want to cry when we confront how many big things are wrong. So we get worked up over the little stuff and then laugh about it. It’s a way to not let the big stuff get us down.
“You know I agree with you about the fries, but you also know I’m talking about that guy right now,” she says to me, punching the button to turn on the radio. She tunes it to the classic rock station and I roll down my window, pressing my foot to the floor as much as I can while staying safely below the speed limit. With Brynn and Cassie in the car, I won’t speed. Hell, as much as I used to love going on joyrides back in the day, I don’t even speed with just myself in the car anymore.
I clear my throat and toss a glance over at the Atlantic Ocean. It’s a perfect evening and I think the fireflies are going to come out early tonight. Brynn will like that. After a few minutes, we’re arriving at Cassie’s house. She grabs a stack of bills from her pocket and fans it out. It’s mostly singles.
“I can’t sell,” I say, turning into her driveway. “What would you do for money?”
“There are other places I could work,” she reminds me. “It’s not like my entire livelihood depends on you.”
“You know I didn’t mean it like that. But then again, what other establishment would pay you for your entire shift even if you clock out early?”
“You said yourself that we didn’t have any customers!”
“Okay, then what about last week, when you and Mike wanted to slip in a little afternoon you-know-what and you were gone for the rest of the day?”
“Yeah,” she says, rolling her eyes at me. I cut the engine. “You’re right. What can I say? You’re the best boss anyone could ever ask for.
Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. Her sarcasm can be saved for another day. I really am the best boss she could ask for. There are other places she could work, but none where she could come and go as she pleases and certainly none that would pay well. The trendier our little part of the island has become, the more high-end boutiques have followed. What we need are jobs that are sustainable and not the kind of gentrification that’s driving people out of our little community.
That’s why I don’t want to sell, and Cassie knows it. Even though I’d position myself for quite a windfall, what I’d be trading is more valuable than any sum of money. And I don’t mind Cassie making her own hours, being late all the time, and leaving whenever the sun and surf calls to her. She’s family, and I know that if I really called upon her and asked her to take the job more seriously, she would.
We get out of the car and Cassie helps Brynn out of the back seat. Tonight Cassie’s husband is baby-sitting for me so I can get my one night out a week. I really was too busy to go out with what’s-his-name. I haven’t even thought of him since we said goodbye. I certainly haven’t felt his hand where he touched mine. I haven’t thought about the feeling I got in the bottom of my belly when he looked at me. I haven’t tried to recapture his scent or the spark I felt between us.
Brynn runs over and grabs my hand as we start up the stairs to Cassie and Mike’s little house. Mike is already standing at the front door with two glasses of lemonade in his hands. Brynn runs past him to get inside and he puts both of the glasses into my hands so he can wrap his arms around his wife and pull her close. The two of them proceed to mash their mouths against each other’s while I pretend I’m not here, gaze out toward the ocean, and sniff each of the glasses to discern which is for me. One’s got vodka in it, and I know Mike made mine a virgin because I’m going to be driving. I take a sip and then turn back to them.
“Okay, enough is enough,” I say, putting the glass of spiked lemonade into Cassie’s hand. She takes a sip and a big smile curls on her lips as she plants a peck on Mike’s cheek. These two have been together since they were eighteen and still can’t get their hands off each other, bless them. He pats her on the butt as we all go inside and I make my way through the kitchen to the garage door.
I flip the light on and go straight to what I need: my dad’s trusty metal detector. Every Saturday night I go out to the beach and try to unearth hidden gold. Sometimes I find some interesting things, but it’s mostly just bottle caps and pull-tabs. Sometimes random keys.
I make my way back inside and find Cassie and Mike in the kitchen, him frying up some chicken cutlets and her packing up a cooler with some beers and sodas.
“Thank you again for this,” I say to Mike as I slip into a chair at the table.
“If you’d just sell, you’d be able to hire an actual babysitter,” Cassie says, crouched in front of the fridge. I know she’s playing around. There’s no one I’d trust more with Brynn than my cousin-in-law Mike. I’ve known him my whole life. We were friends long before Cassie and he started dating. I was more than happy when they got together. It was a match everyone in our little sleepy town knew was bound to happen before they did.
“Another offer?” Mike says toward me inquisitively. “Those kind of slowed down there for a minute, didn’t they?”
“Yeah,” I say, grabbing the elastic from my hair and letting my curls go loose. I’ve learned to love them. Any attempt to flatten them out has been met with failure, so I decided a few years ago to just lean in and embrace them. I thought I saw Peter catching a peek at them. I don’t care if they look messy and wild. They’re what I was born with, which means they’re part of me.
“The dude who came in today was particularly cute, too,” Cassie says, “and he even asked our girl out on a date.”
“I won’t even ask if you’ll consider it,” Mike chuckles. He’s laughing at both the idea of me selling and the idea of me dating, and his laugh conveys everything he’s been saying to me for the past six months, since the situation with the restaurant got really bad. He thinks I should sell. He thinks I should be a little selfish, that it’s my turn to be happy. He thinks a fat check and having the responsibility off my shoulders will make me happy. I’ve gone along with his assumptions since the first time he sat me down and told me his thoughts.
“Should we go?” Cassie says, hitching the cooler onto her hip. I nod and call out for Brynn to come say goodbye to her aunt, and she appears in the doorway wit
h a face full of unicorn stickers. I laugh and give her a hug.
“Be good for your uncle Mike,” I tell her.
“I’m always good.” She peels a sticker off her face and puts it on my cheek. That’s her little parcel of affection for me.
With my dad’s metal detector in tow, Cassie and I go back out to my car. The sun has mostly set and the only color left in the sky is bleeding into the horizon. We get inside and a silence falls over us as we drive toward Brent’s place. He’s having a party which means Cassie is going to have to be folded up and put into my car at the end of the night. I’m okay with it. I don’t begrudge anyone their occasional vice, especially Cassie. She is fiercely loyal and proved it on the playground when we were twelve and the cute asshole I liked took advantage of my vulnerability and wouldn’t stop stealing my bike. She pushed him off it and with tears in his eyes he admitted he liked me back. Cassie also made me come to my senses and told me any boy who liked me and deserved my time wouldn’t want to steal my bike; he’d want to borrow it and he’d return it in better condition than he took it.
Technically she’s my cousins’s cousin. My mom’s sister’s husband’s sister’s daughter. On a deeper level, she’s like a sister. She, my biological sister and I were always inseparable.
I take a deep breath as we pull over at the side of Brent’s property. Cassie hops out and I lag behind. My mind keeps bringing me back to thoughts of Peter. He said his offer is different. I’ve heard it all before. He’ll promise he’s going to maintain the restaurant’s integrity or promise it won’t be torn down. I know it’s all a bunch of crap. Really. Because the only way for the restaurant to maintain its integrity is by keeping its prices low and serving the community. Any attempts to make it into some fancy thing people from the city can post online about will damage its existing customer base. And the existing customer base is shrinking by the season. There’s no way to flip the restaurant into something profitable without really, really changing it. I’ve tried. The only way to make money on this land is to tear everything down and turn it into a hotel or condos.
I make my way down to the beach behind Brent’s house with my metal detector dragging behind me. I didn’t have to reject Peter outright, though I did conduct myself with slightly more decorum than I did with the last guy. It wasn’t my fault, though. He tried to corner me in the kitchen and grab my ass. I had no choice but to do anything I could to get away from him, even if it left him on the floor curled up in the fetal position with his balls in his hands. I locked him inside the restaurant until the cops arrived and I’m lucky he didn’t smash through the glass door.
Peter certainly has that guy beat. But still, having a baseline of common decency isn’t something that should earn you an award.
I turn my metal detector on and start to scan for buried treasure. This was my dad’s prized possession. He loved it even more than any of the treasures he was able to find with it. He always told me the journey is more important than the destination, which is probably why he loved it more than anything he found. Thinking of him, or my mom or sister, still puts a lump into my throat and makes my eyes sting at the corners. I tuck the thoughts away. My only responsibility is to Brynn and to keeping alive the memory of my parents and my sister, Brynn’s mom.
I’m quite certain I love Brynn more than anyone could ever love another person, and to do my best by her, I need this Saturday night ritual. I need to do something once a week that’s just for me. Just for me to honor the people who loved her like I do.
I smile to myself and walk to the shore line where the water laps against the sand. Maybe tonight I’ll find buried treasure hidden out here.
4
Peter
I loosen my tie and grab a beer from the refrigerator in the small house I’ve rented for the week. My brother thought I was crazy to want to stay out here, but I’m in desperate need of a break from the city and this was the perfect opportunity. I always like to mix business with pleasure even if the pleasure is just an escape from the phone calls and general asshole people I have to deal with on a daily basis.
I take a pull from my beer and set it on the kitchen counter, letting my eyes scan the beach. There’s a house a few down from me that looks like they’re having a party. Sometimes I think of selling my portion of my company and starting over in a place like this. A place where the people know each other’s names and care about each other beyond what they can do for their bank account or social currency. My suits are getting itchy. It’s like there’s something under my skin.
Making my way into the bathroom, I realize that I haven’t been able to get Claire off my mind all evening. Claire and her little white tee. The way her tits pushed up against the fabric, tugging at it slightly, and the little frayed black shorts that barely covered the swell of her ass. I haven’t been with a woman in a long time because the prospects that throw themselves at me are more boring than spending the night alone. Casual sex does nothing for me. What a one-night-stand can offer, I can offer myself, and the time I spend by myself has been becoming increasingly boring on its own.
I peel my clothes off and my hand drops to my hard cock. The image of Claire in the tub, her tits grazing the surface of the water, has me stiffer than a diamond. I put off giving in, start the shower and step inside.
No other woman has ever inspired the kind of feelings I’m having for Claire. I’m curious about her. I’m attracted to her. I want her. Badly. I thought of her as my girlfriend when she nearly chucked the menu at me after telling her I wasn’t done with it. That’s what I like. That’s what I need. I don’t want someone who will just stand by and love me. I want someone who will get their hands dirty with me and argue with me and love me. They say there’s no such thing as perfect love. I say there is. It’s when you find that person you’re as comfortable with as you are your best friend. My parents were like that. They didn’t fight, but they argued. That’s not the same thing. Fights are two people against each other. Arguments happen when both parties are on the same side and trying to convince each other that what’s best for one of them is best for both of them. That’s love.
So when Claire dumped her bucket of snark all over me, I knew it was for my own damn good. She knew the fish and chips were the best choice, and she made the decision that that’s what I’d have. She knew before I did. She also knew that I have the kind of money that could change her life forever and yet she still rejected it. That alone has her on my radar. That, combined with how beautiful she is, has my mind making plans I know could take years to achieve.
I let the warm water beat down on me. If I’m going to win Claire, I’m going to have to be careful about it. She isn’t the kind of woman who will fall into bed with just any guy who looks her way or gives her attention. Hell, not that there’s anything wrong with that, but it’s just not her, so whatever tactic I must use to reach her heart will have to be tailored especially for her. She’s the kind of woman who has to actively repel men. Something tells me she’s been burned before so I will have to work that much harder to show her I’m not like whoever hurt her. Her family situation, I assume, is complicated. I intend on taking the time to understand.
My hand falls to my cock again and I wrap my fingers around the base, grinding it up to the tip, wet and fat with precome. Claire’s body is one in a million and it’s only one of the many things I already know I like about her. I picture her snarky lips closing for a beat as I crush my mouth to hers, and the way she would taste when she opens up and gives me her tongue. We would talk all day and then she’d tell me to shut the hell up and do something better with my lips. I put my hand against the shower wall to brace myself for the imminent onslaught of release. I grind my hand up and down my full length and tip my head back imagining myself slicing through her bare, wet, tight pussy for the first time with my forehead touching hers and her lips begging me to kiss her while I fuck her senseless.
My release comes fast and hard, and I’m groaning against the shower wall with my f
orehead pinning my arm to the wet tile. I snap my eyes shut as I come, my release splashing up against my belly and getting washed away just as fast. But there’s still a picture behind my eyes. Claire is still there. Maybe not naked and writing around beneath me and maybe not opening up her lips to take me into her throat, but the feeling of her is still there. Her spirit is still on my mind.
I blow out a long breath and steady myself, my chest heaving against the spray of water. I scrub a hand up and down my face as I clean myself up, knowing full well that I’m not leaving this island unless I have her with me.
Claire is a catch, and I don’t care how hard I have to work to reel her in. She is mine.
5
Claire
My metal detector starts going off like mad.
I put it aside and draw a line in the sand around the area it’s detected, digging through the damp ground and carefully sifting the sand through my fingers. This might be my lucky day. If I find gold, maybe I can pawn it off to my fish guy and get next week’s catch for it.
I keep digging until I hit water, then keep going a little bit further. My fingers finally catch something hard and I fish it out. It’s a piece of lanyard with a string of metal can tabs strung on it. This was probably someone’s prized possession at some point, but now it’s just trash.
Well, if I’m not getting rich, at least I’m helping keep the beach clean. I walk toward the water to rinse the makeshift bracelet and tuck it into my pocket for safekeeping. Maybe I won’t throw it out. Maybe I’ll keep it in the cabinet where I display all of the many things my dad used to find. It might not be a great discovery, but maybe this one is a keeper.
I'll Catch You Page 2
