by Gunn, Jenna
I never send heart emojis. To anyone.
My pulse beats too fast as I drive to work. It feels a lot like I’m free-falling. Just hours… no, minutes ago I was floating high on a soft cloud of Brandon bliss and now I’ve been pitched off the edge and I don’t know what’s below.
I drive past the Ocean Rescue parking lot, feeling awful, with stomach twisted and my heart jackhammering. I press the brake until my car is creeping by. My eyes search the lot.
A cocktail of dread and hurt fills my veins.
His truck is not there.
Had to get to work early…yeah right.
* * *
Mave nearly flattens me with the front door of the surf shop. My students get a chuckle out of me taking a door to the face once they know I’m not hurt.
Mave’s hand flies to her mouth as she tries to contain her donkey-like laugh. It only adds to the ridiculousness of the whole situation.
It would be pretty funny, if I felt like laughing.
I’m in the dressing room getting changed, students having gone about their way, when Mave finds me again. “Hey, you. I haven’t seen you since the party at the Sea Slug!”
“Hey, Mave.”
She suddenly tunes in to me. “Girl, what’s wrong? I know that look. That’s the look of a woman who’s got too much on her shoulders.”
I drop down onto the bench. My shoulders sag. “Is it that obvious?”
She nods, smiles gently. “I can tell when you are struggling.” She lays an arm around my shoulder. “Want to talk?”
“No. But thank you.” I say quickly.
I don’t want to put words around everything that is happening. I’m in a rotten place.
I shimmy my wetsuit off my arms.
She pulls her purse from her locker. “Well, you know where to find me if you want to later.”
‘Thanks, Mave. Did you have a fun birthday?”
She giggles and rolls her eyes. “My heavens, yes. But I don’t think I’ll go out again for a while. I’m still feeling that one.”
So am I, only for a whole different reason.
I’m about to wiggle out of the rest of my wetsuit when my phone rings. I grab it. Hoping to see Brandon’s number. It’s Bishop instead.
“Hi.” I say, trying to be somewhat perky.
“Want to surf?”
“Well, you did catch me with my wetsuit half on still.”
I hear a grin in his voice. “Figured I would. I saw you heading back to the shop.”
“Give me ten minutes and I’ll meet you on the beach.”
“I’m at lifeguard tower one.”
I disconnect and put my arms back into my suit. After a quick goodbye to Rich, I get my personal board out of the storage room. Questions hound me as I walk to meet Bishop.
He watches me carefully as I approach, one eyebrow quirked.
“Brandon told you to entertain me this afternoon, didn’t he?”
Bishop shrugs, “He suggested that I go surfing or hang out. Suits me. I haven’t gotten to enjoy your quirky sense of humor lately.”
I sigh,” It has been a while.”
We turn toward the water, and I catch him watching me. “What?”
“Are you doing okay?”
I chew my lip for a second. “No, actually I’m not that great today.”
He doesn’t say anything, and I appreciate that. It’s one of the differences in having a guy friend. They don’t always feel the need to fill the little silences with questions or useless words.
We wade out into the cool water and begin paddling toward the outside of the breaking waves. Once we reach the spot where we can sit to wait on the waves, Bishop splashes me. “Spill it.”
I splash him back. “No. Just because you’re babysitting me doesn’t mean you have to listen to my issues.”
He rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Feel free to bitch about Brandon, we can commiserate.”
I see a wave coming, turn and paddle for it. The swell of the water lifts me up and I stand and glide down the wave. For the first time all day I feel a real breath enter my lungs.
I paddle back to where Bishop is waiting.
“Who’s Samantha?”
His eyes cut to mine, his back stiffens.
“Well, that says a lot.” I mutter. “She’s obviously someone since you and Brandon both clammed up like you’d swallowed super glue.”
His voice is flat and cold when he replies. “She’s a ghost from the past.”
“Funny, I didn’t know ghosts could send text messages.”
Bishop catches a wave, his motions choppy and rough as he cuts up and down the wave, swinging his arms with force, surfing much more aggressively than normal.
When he paddles back out, he comes right up next to me. “Why do you ask?”
I’m suddenly tongue tied. I’m not comfortable saying that I was spying on Brandon’s phone. How would Bishop take that?
This sleeping with his brother thing has me kind of tied up in knots. But he’s staring and I have to say something.
“She messaged Brandon this morning, but please don’t say I mentioned this.”
His shoulders are so tight he looks like a statue. The thin line between his lips presses tighter. He paddles for a wave, but misses it. I paddle over to him. “Where is Brandon right now?”
“Last I heard he was on patrol on one of the rescue boats. They had a late call this afternoon.”
I huff.
Dammit.
I can’t hold back from asking. “And after that?”
He drops onto his stomach and paddles for a wave. Again he slashes, and turns, and carves the wave until it runs out of steam.
Argh. This conversation is going nowhere fast.
When he returns, his brow is hard and low. “Look, I don’t know where he’s going. All I know is he wanted me to hang out with you to make sure you were safe.”
Shoot.
I sit on my board and ideas swirl around in my head. I feel Bishop’s eyes on me.
I need to know…
But am I really about to admit my fear to his brother?
Am I taking advantage of my friendship with Bishop?
Finally I blurt, “I think he’s meeting Samantha after work.”
He just stares out across the waves in front of us, a muscle in his jaw ticking. “That son of a bitch better not be.”
22
It was stupid to leave early this morning so I could call Samantha. But I knew if I didn’t she’d be blowing my phone up all day and I’d be worried about what kind of shit she’s gotten into now.
Getting a text from her could only mean one thing—she was in trouble and has nowhere else to turn.
And I was correct. Right out of the gate as soon as we got on the phone she said, “I wouldn’t have asked if I had anyone else to turn to. Gary won’t do it. I’m going to an inpatient place, and I don’t want anyone else to know where I am.”
Gary, being the sugar daddy husband, probably likes her nice and dependent.
“What about taking an Uber?”
She sniffles. Sobs. Sniffles some more.
“Samantha, shit. You sound terrible.”
“It’s bad. I need help.”
I sigh. “When?”
“As soon as possible?”
It’s been a couple of years since the last time. And I swore I’d never help her again, but shit, as much as I can’t stand the girl, I can’t just stand by and watch her self-destruct.
“I’ll call after work.”
She sniffs. “Thank you, Brandon. I knew you’d help me.”
Mother fucker.
What in the hell? How can I still be tied up with her shit years after our relationship dissolved into one big nightmare thanks to the Fox Hole, Stu Baker, drugs, and a millionaire?
A great way to start the workday...
Like I needed more complications between me and Anya. Now I’ve got this nightmare to deal with.
So it’s no surprise that I have
n’t said two words to my coworker since stepping on the county Rescue Boat. Jeremy and I are on Boat One today. I’m not exactly a chit-chatter, but it’s probably obvious I’ve got a thorn in my side.
“Be forewarned, I’m in a foul mood.” I grumble.
He just smiles and shrugs. “No worry to me.”
Jeremy’s easy going and dependable, which I like a hell of a lot. He takes the helm and motors us away from the marina. The ocean’s surface is covered with chop and clouds hide the morning sun, making for a sky that matches my mood.
The temperature is warm enough though that we’ll see plenty of boats out today.
Jeremy turns on some music on his phone as he steers along the beach. “Could be a busy day.”
As we draw closer to the beach, I pull the binoculars out of their case, and scan the beach. The onshore lifeguards manage most of the rescues, but the boat teams patrol for paddleboarders, kayaks, motorboats, and sailboats that are in the near-shore waters.
“See anyone in the water?”
“Not yet.”
I do see Anya, on the beach with her morning lessons though. Her red curls are bright against the gray beach. A gnawing sense that I should have just told her about Samantha eats at my gut. But what do you say?
I still haven’t figured out the right thing to say about it by afternoon. We’ve cruised the cove. Helped a paddle boarder that broke their paddle, and watched a lot of boat traffic cruising around. It’s been a pretty calm day, overall.
It’s nearly three in the afternoon when we get our second call.
Dispatch radios the boat. “Rescue Boat One, overturned catamaran. Two people in the water in front of Lifeguard Tower 6.”
Jeremy picks up the mic, “10:4, responding now, ETA, three minutes.”
He turns the boat back toward tower six and guns it. We crash over the waves, sea spray whips onto our faces as we go.
“I have visual on two people swimming, both in PFD’s,” I tell Jeremy. “Pull along the starboard side.”
He slows the boat and guides us alongside the overturned sailing vessel. The two women sailors have scrambled onto the upside down boat now.
I walk to the side of our rescue boat, “Hello, looks like a bit of a problem,”
“You think?” One of the soggy women laughs. I recognize her from the marina. “Thanks for coming. She got away from me.”
Jeremy leans over the edge of the boat for a better look. “What can we do to help?”
“I think we can get it right side up if one of you comes in and helps.”
Jeremy grins, glances at me. “That would be you.”
I knew he was going to say that. “Coming in, give me a minute.” I say.
I jump off the rescue boat and swim toward the sailboat. The women slide back into the water. The three of us stand on one of the hulls, and pull on a rope to begin turning the boat over. “She’s coming, thanks for the extra manpower, I’m Kate by the way, and this is Reba.”
Reba cuts her eyes away shyly. She’s yet to say a word.
“Nice to meet you, Kate, and Reba.”
Slowly the mast and sail begin to rise in the water, swinging away from us. After a few moments we’re standing on one hull, and the other hull is in the air. Kate climbs around and releases the sail so the mast will come easily out of the water so the final pull will turn the boat right side up.
I grasp the rope high so they can grab below me. “Ready?”
“Yes, sir.”
With all our weight, we lean back onto the rope, and the boat flips upright. We land in the water with a splash.
Mission accomplished. “That was easy.”
“Thanks to you. We’d have been out here all day,” says Kate.
I’m swimming back toward our boat when we get our next call.
Jeremy talks with the dispatcher as I work my way to the back of our boat.
“You ladies okay now?” I ask as I climb aboard. “We’ve got another call.”
Kate waves us off, and goes back to preparing her boat so they can return to sailing.
I grab a county issued beach towel from the under-seat storage and move to the center console to check in with Jeremy. “What’s next?”
“Disabled boat. One man aboard. Out by the mouth of the cove.”
“I’m ready when you are.”
He expertly speeds us across the cove. Through the binoculars I see a small, older boat bobbing on the windswell waves. Whitecaps cover the water from us to the boat and far beyond to the horizon.
The wind is picking up, blowing along the beach, making for choppy conditions.
“Did they call the towboat yet?”
“Yes, but they are handling another call. So we’re to standby til they arrive to keep the boat from drifting too far.”
Jeremy slows the boat as we approach. I see the engine cover flipped up. A man is hunched over as if he’s trying to repair something.
When he stands up, my eyes instantly go to the shock of red-blonde hair. His shoulders also have a familiar shape.
Jeremy motors us right up the boat. “Hello, sir. Ocean Rescue,” he calls.
Cameron O’Reilly looks right into my eyes when he turns around. For a second I think I see relief in his eyes, then they quickly turn nervous.
“Brandon,” He says with a gruff voice and a quick nod.
“Cameron, didn’t expect to see you out here. What’s going on?”
“Engine trouble. I can’t fix this with just two hands, unfortunately.” Cameron’s eyes flip nervously from Jeremy to me and back.
I really do not want to help dickwad, but it’s the right thing to do. “I’ll see if I can help, we might get you up and running before the tow boat arrives.”
“Tow boat?” Cameron frowns.
Jeremy says, “Yeah, rescue dispatch called them. We have to stay with you until they arrive.”
Cameron’s mouth drops into a hard grimace. “Shit.”
I really want to grill him about what the hell he’s doing out here on this POS boat when he should be working to pay off his damn debt. But I don’t say it. Instead I say, “Maybe we can get you up and going, I’m not a boat mechanic, but I have two extra hands to lend.”
“Uh…okay.”
Jeremy eases our boat up next to his.
I extend my hand. “Toss me a rope, we’ll secure your vessel to ours.” Quickly I lash the boats together with bumpers in between. When I climb over, I intend to ask some fucking questions, hopefully without Jeremy having to know what’s going on.
Cameron wipes his hands on his pants, rocks back and forth between his feet. Nervous anyone? Maybe he thinks I’ll pitch him over for being a dick to his sister.
“What have you got going on?”
His voice is shaky, “Uh, this part came loose, and I can’t hold it and clamp it with just two hands”.
I follow him to the rear of the boat and fold myself over the wall that encloses the engine.
Goddamn. My insides seize up into a solid fucking block of ice when my eyes land on a duffel bag that’s spilling its contents—lots of little plastic bags with pills in them.
I feel his eyes on me, but I can’t drag mine off of the contraband. “Fuck. Dude.”
“I had to…” He stammers.
“You just bought yourself a ticket to prison.”
His voice drops low. “You don’t have to tell anyone.”
For a moment I’m suspended at the gates of hell.
Anya. Poor Anya, this is going to crush her.
But as much as it breaks my heart to be the one to do this…I have to. It’s my duty. And he fucking deserves it.
Before he can move, I have his arm twisted behind his back. “On the floor.” I growl, pushing him down face first onto the deck of the boat.
Cameron yelps and tries to twist away. “Come on, please. Don’t do this. Oh god, my ribs.” He groans.
“Should have thought of that before you did something stupid.”
I igno
re his moaning and tighten the grip on his arm. “Jeremy, call the sheriff, we need their boat here STAT.”
Without a single second of hesitation Jeremy is on the radio, calling in the urgent request. The county dispatcher gives an ETA of ten minutes.
Cameron starts babbling something about hurting Anya. My anger flashes like I’ve pinned the throttle. With my face right against his ear, I grit out, “You should have thought of that a long time ago.”
“I can’t go to prison.”
I press my knee into his back as I cuff him with the handcuffs that Jeremy has passed to me. “You can. And you will. Maybe your sister will be able to get her life back.”
With a quick motion, I zip-tie his feet to keep him from doing something stupid like jumping in the water.
Ten long ass minutes go by. Jeremy doesn’t say a word. I don’t take my eyes off Cameron, who lies broodingly on the floor.
When the sheriff’s deputy climbs onto the boat, I nod toward the engine. He whistles a long low whistle. “Found yourself a nice haul, Brandon. The county is going to be real happy.”
“Guess so,” I mumble, but all I can think about is how I’m going to have to tell Anya that I’m the reason her brother is going to likely spend a good part of his life in prison.
23
The paperwork on a drug bust is a pain in the ass. Double so because I read about as fast as a turtle walks. Thankfully I know the forms pretty much by heart now.
I’m still at work at six o’clock when I remember I have to deal with Samantha’s bullshit.
My phone was buried in my backpack, so it’s no surprise when I look at it that there are a half dozen calls and texts. Four from Bishop. Two from Samantha. None from Anya…
Ignoring them all, I transfer my report from Cameron’s arrest into the computer. All the while, I try to think of anyone who could take care of Samantha’s transportation to rehab.
Feels kind of shitty even thinking about putting it off on someone, but that feeling lasts only about twenty seconds.
Jeremy walks into the workroom where I’m on a county laptop. He’s got to do his own share of paperwork too, so I know why he’s here. His usually easy going expression holds concern. “Hey, man. You doing okay?”
