All I Do: Paradise Beach #3

by Lush, Tamara

  “Let me go and I’ll tell you.”

  “Don’t think so, you little whore. Not until I get what I want.” He chuckles, a low, evil sound.

  The stale odor of his breath makes me gag and heave when he presses his face into my cheek.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  REMY

  “Dude, I don’t have a good feeling about this.” The eggs I swallow go down my throat in a congealed lump. “Don’t like it at all. Why hasn’t she texted back?”

  “Maybe she got busy.” Nat shrugs.

  “No, it’s not like her to text half a sentence.”

  “Maybe she came to her senses and realized that you’re still not boyfriend material.”

  I inhale the rest of my coffee, then take out my wallet. Throwing down a twenty, I shake my head. “I’m going over there. It’s only a couple of blocks away. I just don’t like it. Makes me feel funny inside.”

  Nat stands up and grabs her purse. “Now that you’re finally all in touch with your intuition, I guess I’ll go with you as backup.”

  I raise an eyebrow. My sister is about a hundred twenty pounds soaking wet, and her arms look like sticks. “Thanks, bro.”

  She rolls her eyes and we leave money on the table, waving goodbye to Joey on the way. During the two-block walk to Mermosa, we’re mostly silent. Her heavy boots strike the pavement.

  “Are you wearing combat boots with shorts?” I ask, mystified by my sister’s complicated clothing choices, since I’m always simply in flip-flops. “Aren’t your feet hot?”

  She shrugs.

  When we come up on the bar’s door — newly painted in a midnight blue hue — nothing seems amiss. Maybe she’s not here, and she really didn’t want to text with me anymore. The thought slays me. I grab the doorknob and open it gently, sticking my head in.

  “Leilani?” I call out.

  And that’s when I see it. A man pinning her to the wall. Leilani’s head is tilted awkwardly to one side. The guy's hand is on her chest, and Leilani's squirming, trying to escape from his grip. Fear and revulsion are etched on her face. Her eyes flip open.

  “Remy,” she cries, her voice laced with terror.

  My vision goes hazy and red, and in a millisecond, I’m pulling the guy off of her and slamming my fist into his face. At least I think it’s his face. I’m so blindly angry that I’m punching him anywhere, everywhere, with all I’ve got.

  Normally, I’m a lover, not a fighter. But right now? I’m a goddamned, heavyweight MMA champion.

  The guy’s big, though, about as big and muscular as my brother Damien. In my rational moments, I’d never pick a fight with someone like that. But this isn’t a rational moment. I don’t know if this is her ex or some random attacker. Whoever it is, he’s going down.

  The guy charges at me and we fall to the cold terrazzo floor, punching and wrestling. Leilani screams and I see her run to the bar.

  Somehow, I’m on the bottom and the guy hits me square in the nose. I yell. He punches me again in the eye, and a searing pain washes over me. White sparkles dance in my vision. I’m going to kill this asshole, and I grunt, pushing him up. My fist makes contact with his jaw.

  “Hey,” Nat says sharply. We don’t pay attention and continue struggling against each other. The sound of something solid hitting flesh makes a crack echo through the bar. I feel his body press into me, then relax, and I roll away, ready to take him on.

  “I said hey!” Nat yells.

  “Holy shit, oww!” the guy cries, obviously in pain. He struggles to sit up.

  I glance over, in shock. My sister Natalia’s brandishing a two-by-four in the air like some kind of pink-haired Star Wars extra with a light saber. It’s then that I notice she’s shed the cardigan and is in a tattered black tank top and black shorts. And the black combat boots. Back at the diner, she’d looked like a librarian in her cat-eye glasses. Now she’s like a character from a post-apocalyptic movie.

  “Holy shit,” I whisper. “Nat?”

  The guy, clutching his arm, struggles to his feet. He glares at my sister. “You little bitch.”

  Her eyes narrow with fury and she circles him, holding the wood in both hands like a bat. That’s when I remember: Nat was a black belt in kendo, the kind of martial art that uses swords and sticks and shit. Out the corner of my eye, I see Leilani frozen next to the bar, her mouth open in a shocked O, a cell phone pressed to her ear. She says something into the phone.

  There’s pure fury in my sister’s eyes, something I’ve never witnessed in all my twenty-nine years.

  “Here’s how it’s going to go," Nat says, her voice icy. "You’re going to never set foot in this bar again. You’re going to never talk to my friend Leilani again. And you’re going to never come to Paradise Beach as long as you live. Got it?”

  He doesn’t move — well, none of us move, we’re too stunned — and Nat takes a half step forward.

  “Florida has something called a Stand Your Ground law. You familiar with that?”

  The guy sneers. He’s obviously seething from being so noticeably injured in the shoulder by a woman.

  “I’ll take your silence as a no. So, I’ll explain. State law says a person is justified in using deadly force if she reasonably believes it’s necessary to prevent imminent death or great bodily harm. I could have hit you square in the head with this two-by-four and possibly even killed you, and I’d have been justified. So, you should be thanking me. I certainly felt like you were about to cause great bodily harm to one or all of us, didn’t you, Leilani?”

  “Sure did,” she squeaks, still holding the phone. I struggle to my feet so I can put my arms around her. But I also don’t want to get too far from Nat, in case she and this guy start brawling.

  “What, you don’t think I’ll hit you because you’re a woman?” he yells, lifting his hand from his shoulder, which is visibly drooping.

  I step closer to my sister.

  “Come at me, coward,” Nat snarls.

  And that’s when the cops bust through the door, guns drawn.

  * * *

  A half-hour later, Brent’s been arrested and hauled away, first to a hospital to have his shoulder treated, then to the county jail on the mainland.

  Leilani, Nat, and I are still here, moving around the bar in stunned, stiff silence. Well, Leilani and I are stunned. Nat’s saying goodbye to one of the cops. He’s an old high school buddy of hers — they’d been in marching band together — and I have a suspicion that he still has a crush on her.

  I touch my nose, then squint my good eye for a look. Sticky, dried blood coats my fingers. I sink into a chair.

  “Remy,” Leilani whispers, and she’s next to me, kneeling.

  I stroke her long, pretty hair. Jesus, I’ve missed her. “You okay? Did he hurt you?”

  She shakes her head and I spot the tears streaking down her cheeks. "No.”

  “No? You sure you don’t need a doctor?”

  Leilani studies my face. “I'm sure. But you’re going to have a hell of a bruise.”

  Nat comes over. “Yeah, he is.”

  “Christ, sis, I knew you took martial arts, but you handled that piece of wood like you’d been in several back alley rumbles,” I say. “You didn’t even get that angry when Damien and I put cockroaches in your bed when we were kids.”

  Leilani steps back, staring at me in horror. “You did what?”

  “Pfft. Leilani, I’ll tell you everything about him one of these days. The twins were little shits. But they’re pretty decent now.” Nat leans down and kisses the top of my head. “Glad you’re okay, Barf Face.”

  I grin, which makes my entire face light up with pain. “Oh, bringing out the childhood nicknames are we, Turdasaurus?”

  Leilani smiles. “Seriously Nat, how did you know what to do with that piece of wood?”

  “I took a lot of kendo classes when I pulled overnight shifts at the resort’s front desk. They teach you to how to use objects as weapons if threatened.”

 
“Well, thank you.” Leilani looks past me to Nat. The two embrace, then pull apart.

  “Anytime. We’re here for you.” She looks down at the two-by-four and grins.

  “You want to take that with you as a reminder of your badassery?” Leilani asks.

  My sister smirks. “Nah. The only reason I used it was because I didn’t want Remy to hurt that guy and get mistakenly charged with assault. He doesn’t need that in his life.”

  “No, he doesn’t.” Leilani turns to me, and I lift a throbbing hand and thread it through hers. I’m stunned into silence, blown away that the women in my life are slightly crazy, incredibly brave, superheroes.

  Nat stretches, like she’s just woken from slumber. “I’m gonna head out. Might go have a drink later with Officer Hughes. And that’ll give you two some time for a soul-searching conversation. Unless you think you need to go to the hospital with that nose. In which case, I can drive you.”

  “Nah,” I say.

  “I think that officer has a crush on you, Nat,” Leilani says while inspecting my face.

  “Maybe so,” my sister says, pressing the handle on the door.

  “I’m going to clean Remy up.” Leilani jumps to her feet.

  I wave her away, every inch of my face smarting. “I’m fine. Don’t worry. Just a little flesh wound. Haven’t been in a fight since…” My voice trails off.

  “Since fifth grade with Eric Anderson,” Nat calls out before she opens the door and steps outside.

  “Right, since fifth grade,” I mumble. It feels like all the adrenaline is seeping out of my pores, and I’m suddenly exhausted.

  But all of my thoughts are on Leilani, and how that prick was hurting her. Is Leilani really okay? “Babe? Let me look at you. I need to know you’re okay,” I call out.

  She returns with a plastic first aid kit the size of a small suitcase. I crack a grin. “You planning on opening a field hospital in your spare time?”

  “Silly. I’m okay, just shaken. Let me clean you up. Man, that was something with Natalia, right?” She rests the suitcase on the table.

  I blow out a breath. “She was like…”

  “Some kind of dystopian, mercenary warrior,” Leilani finishes my sentence.

  “Right? Or I was thinking more like Dirty Harry. If Dirty Harry lived in Florida and had pink hair and knew how to wield a makeshift, wooden weapon.”

  She smiles and flips open the top of the suitcase. “I’m sorry you had to get involved in that. Had to see that. But. Thank you. Hang on, I think I need more light.”

  It takes her a few seconds to blast on all the lights in the place, then return to me. Her delicate fingers tear open an alcohol swab, and I rest my hand on her hip. “When you didn’t text, I felt like something was wrong. So, I had to come over. If something had happened to you…” My voice cracks. I glance at her neck, which I can now see clearly in the light. It’s marred with red marks in the shape of fingerprints.

  Emotion wells in my stomach, so forceful and bright that I have to gulp in a few breaths just to handle it. The terror of ever losing her hits me full force. “Holy shit, he did hurt you. Is your neck okay?”

  “Shh,” she says. “We’re both okay now.”

  Her fingers graze my skin as she dabs at my face. I suck in a breath, hiss, and groan. After bloodying a dozen alcohol-soaked pads, she pauses and studies my face.

  “Not too bad. That eye’s going to be swollen and bruised for a while.”

  “I don’t think anything’s broken, so it’s all good,” I murmur. “Come here.”

  I pull Leilani onto my lap.

  “Missed you. So much.” I turn my head so I can look at her out of my non-swollen eye.

  “I missed you too. I’m sorry for running out on you like that. I got scared.”

  “No. Don’t apologize. You were setting boundaries, like you said. A good thing. That’s natural. Of course, you were scared. Are scared. After everything you’ve been through. And I didn’t make it any easier, insisting that we were just friends with benefits. That was stupid.”

  She sniffles. “I went along with it. I proposed the entire thing.”

  “I was scared, too. Scared of how I feel about you, because I feel so much. Somehow, I thought that being in a relationship meant predictability. That if we went there, you’d force me to be normal and stable, and not spontaneous. That you’d somehow reduce me to a life of work and long commutes and routine. And then when you left, I felt ashamed of myself.”

  She laughs through her tears. “Um, dude? I’m a mermaid. I’m not sure if I’m the poster child for a normal life.”

  I chuckle and press my lips to the side of her head. “I also realized I’m so much happier when you’re around. And if I’m not happy, then I lose freedom in a different kind of way. We can be exclusive and boyfriend and girlfriend and all that good stuff, and proceed on our own timetable. I want you to trust me. Want you to know I’m there for you.”

  She hiccups in a breath. “I’d like that. To be with you. And only you. But I might hit some speedbumps. I’m still trying to find balance. Still coming to grips with the fact that my needs matter, and that I have to forgive myself for what happened with Brent. Still trying not to be scared.”

  “Oh, babe,” I sigh, gingerly pulling her into my aching body. “I’m here to help you, however you need. Here for all your speedbumps and your boundaries and your fear. Here for it all.”

  Leilani lets out a loud sob, and I stroke her back, emotion filling my chest.

  “I’m here for you,” I whisper in her ear. “No one’s ever going to hurt you again.”

  Least of all, me.

  Epilogue

  REMY

  Leilani told me to show up at Mermosa at eight p.m., sharp. It’s two days before the official opening, and she’s asked me to watch a run-through of the mermaid show.

  She’s worked so hard all these months on this. Hell, on the entire bar. Ever since that day Brent showed up — and ever since she and I had our serious talk — she’s been a dynamo. It’s as if our stable relationship has lit an even bigger fire inside her.

  It’s beautiful to watch. Inspiring, even. While I’ve never aimed to be a go-getting, high-flying businessman like my brother Max, I am totally on board with being the support system for a go-getting businesswoman like Leilani. Who clearly has her shit together. I’m already planning on being a house husband.

  A bottle of champagne and a bouquet of her favorite flowers in hand, I punch in the code to the lock at Mermosa. I’d insisted on the security system, and she’d wanted me to have the code after the Brent incident, figuring that on the off chance he came back, I’d be able to easily enter the place.

  She also installed a panic button. Nat offered to accompany her to a martial arts class, but she’d declined.

  Pulling open the door, I glance around. I’m eager to see her tonight, because I’ve got a surprise.

  But apparently, she has a surprise for me, too. I’d expected the place to be bustling with women, ready to swim. And my sister and her girlfriends watching from the bar, martinis in hand. Shit, I’d even figured Ma would be here, possibly in a mermaid getup.

  Instead, the bar is empty, cool, and dark, illuminated only by the soft, blue light of the mermaid tank behind the bar.

  “Leilani?” I call out. “Hey, babe, I’m here. Where are you?”

  The door shuts with a click. I walk up to the bar. There’s a can of my favorite beer — Cigar City Maduro — nestled in ice inside an aluminum pail. I look down and spot a note card.

  There’s a cartoon mermaid holding a heart at the top of the card. Have a seat and a beer, it says in Leilani’s sweeping, cursive script.

  I settle in, gently placing the champagne and flowers to one side. Cracking the can open, I take a long pull of the cold liquid while my eyes sweep around the place. It has the feel of an underwater grotto. Super funky. Yeah, this bar’s going to do crazy amounts of business here on Paradise Beach. Leilani will have to hire a
manager soon.

  The strains of Crumb, a band Leilani loves, break the silence. The singer’s trippy, feminine voice and the lazy drums make my stomach clench with desire, probably because Leilani loves to have sex to this music and I associate the singer’s tone with mind-blowing orgasms. If the music keeps playing, I’ll be the man equivalent of Pavlov’s dog over here, with a hard-on in my pants and drool coming out of my mouth.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I spot some movement in the tank. Was that a bubble? I sit up straighter and crane my neck.

  And then, I see her. Leilani. She’s in the tank with what looks like her new tail. She’d been so excited to receive it in the mail that she’d called me when it arrived, screaming and squealing for a solid minute.

  She swims fast, back and forth past the window, a blur. I laugh out loud because it’s fucking delightful.

  My girlfriend’s doing a solo mermaid show just for me.

  For a few seconds, I don’t see her, probably because she’s surfacing for a breath of air. When she submerges again, she swims slowly up to the window and my jaw drops.

  She’s topless, clad only in the tail. Holy shit. I’m not even sure where to look first. Her gorgeous, bare tits? Her long, floating hair, which she recently dyed various shades of blue and purple? The tail outfit, which has realistic-looking scales and is molded to her body, ending right at her sexy, little bellybutton?

  She waves and does a backflip. Then another. And a third.

  I watch, rapt, as she undulates underwater. She’s not just my girlfriend right now; she’s an otherworldly, magical creature. The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life. The way she moves underwater is sensual and erotic.

  She’s the embodiment of sensual and erotic.

  And she’s all mine. Never before have I felt like this with anyone. This intense, this special, this much… love.

  Not just tonight, either. Ever since I laid eyes on her. There’s been no way I can live without her.