Promises to Keep

by Sex, Nikki

  During their walk back, Jack was on high alert, but didn't see anything out of the ordinary. At her apartment, he politely declined her offer to come in for a drink.

  Laura just smiled, a mysterious, incomprehensible female sort of smile. Pulling him in for a quick hug, she gave him a chaste peck on the cheek.

  When he left her building, Jack stopped and pulled on the front door, to make sure it latched firmly.

  Then he walked over to his Jeep and got into the driver's seat, where he intended to sit all night long, keeping watch.

  ~~~

  Jonah stood watch, too.

  This new guy, another serviceman by the look of him, was a snag he didn't anticipate or need. He really didn't have any actual plan of action.

  What he'd said to Chet back in the abandoned farmhouse had been an unmitigated pile of bull shit that he'd pulled out of his ass in desperation.

  That had gotten him a bit of a reprieve—bought him some time, but that was all. It didn't change his situation much. He knew that if he didn't deliver, and deliver soon, he'd be right back in that old run down house, sitting at that table.

  He’d likely not leave there in one piece.

  Jonah knew about the money.

  Hell, life insurance for servicemen was all over the papers. They said that the starting—starting—payout was a quarter of a million. He'd been watching Laura. She hadn't made any big purchases since that idiot had gotten himself killed. She worked the same hours at the same crappy job. Not like any other normal woman would do, if they'd come into some big money.

  Stupid bitch.

  No new house or fancy new car—Hell, she didn't have any car, nothing was any different. That told him that she was holding a big, fat wad of cash somewhere—in the bank, most likely. That presented a problem in and of itself.

  Jonah knew he couldn't talk her into handing over money to him. He knew she wouldn't buy any sort of excuse or pleading. Please, can you just hand over your dead husband's life insurance? I really, really need it.

  Nope, he intended on beating it out of her. It was his only option.

  Maybe he'd take her on a ride to the abandoned farmhouse or one just like it. That way, he'd have the time and privacy to go at her and go at her until she'd give him anything, just to make it stop. He hadn't exactly hashed out a way to get her to withdraw it either, without her going straight to the cops as soon as he let her go.

  Get her to sign a check maybe, and hold onto her until it cleared? Then, it didn't matter what he did with her. He'd give half of it to Chet to get him off his back and then take the rest of it and get as far away as he could as quickly as he could—maybe Mexico or further even.

  But this new guy was a problem. Jonah was surprised at how fast Laura had found herself a new beau hunk. This guy was older, bigger and taller. A real tough, no-nonsense type.

  Jonah followed them as they'd walked down the street, but had been spotted by the faggot. It was stupid, a rookie mistake. He walked too close and too fast and then he'd stepped where he shouldn't have, just as the new guy looked his way.

  Jonah pretended he was just out for a walk and turned away from them, but he knew he'd been spotted, so he doubled back to Laura's apartment building. There he'd waited until they returned and then until the new guy came out and got into his SUV.

  At first, Jonah thought the guy was leaving and he'd have his chance, but the guy just sat in his car and watched the building, as Jonah watched him.

  Jonah contemplated sneaking up on the man while he was alone in his Jeep, but the jerk never seemed to get tired. Jonah waited, but after an hour he’d lost patience. He had better things to do.

  He gave up and started walking toward a different local dealer. One who wouldn’t mind giving him something on credit.

  No, he’d find another way to get at Laura.

  Chapter 30.

  Jack spent a restless night in his Jeep. He did sleep, but very lightly, alert and aware of sounds nearby. It was a learned ability, a soldier’s skill to get adequate rest this way.

  He left his post only after daylight brought activity to the neighborhood. With the sunrise, he found new vitality.

  Turning the key in the ignition, Jack put his jeep in gear and went foraging.

  When he arrived back at Laura's apartment later, he had two piping hot lattes in hand and two surfboards strapped to the luggage rack. The double shot coffee had him spooled up and he was "on mission" as the Marines were always saying.

  Jack strode up the walk and buzzed Laura's apartment.

  "Yes?"

  "It's me, Jack. I brought coffee."

  "What? Why...what time is it?"

  "Half past seven. Come on down, I've got a surprise for you."

  "I really..."

  Laura seemed hesitant, so Jack turned it up a notch. "You said you needed a little fun in your life so I brought some, with bells on."

  "OK," Laura sighed, her voice sounding almost robotic over the intercom. "You really have coffee?"

  "Gallons of it." Jack tapped the buzzer several times, prodding her with the disagreeable sound. "C'mon, c’mon down and bring your swimsuit."

  "Oh, alright I'll be—wait, swimsuit?"

  "Just do it. I promise you'll have fun."

  "I've got to go to work later."

  Laura sounded hesitant again, but Jack wasn’t about to let her out of this. "Screw it. Call in sick. Momma needs to play herself a little hooky."

  This made her giggle. "OK then, Dudley Do Wrong. Just hold on to your drawers."

  A few minutes later, Laura appeared at the front door, in blue jean cut-offs and a halter, with the strings of a bathing suit looping around her neck.

  Jack bit back a moan. She’s so damn cute.

  "What's your plan?” she asked. “I hope we're not going anywhere close because I just told my boss that I wasn't feeling well. It wouldn't be cool if he saw me running around town."

  Jack handed her a latte and she cupped the cardboard container as if warming her hands. "You tell him you got a cough or something?"

  "Nah. I said it was ladies problems and he just told me to keep it to myself and come in when I feel better." Laura laughed. "Old guys don't want to hear about it. Even hint at menstruation, and they run for the hills."

  "Smart and devious. I like it. C’mon."

  As he led her to the car, his plan for the day's activities became immediately apparent.

  "Jack, I don't know how to surf."

  "You will after today. I'll teach you. It's easier than riding a bike." Jack bowed and gestured as he opened the car door for her. “My lady.”

  Laura laughed.

  "I checked out the surf report," he said, as he got in and started the engine. “The waves should be perfect.”

  Laura looked at him, while sipping her coffee. “That sounds good.”

  A single errant strand of her hair had escaped from her ponytail and draped itself over her cup as she lifted it to drink. She casually blew it away from the corner of her mouth.

  Just that simple gesture made Jack feel warm inside, much warmer than any overpriced coffee could ever hope to achieve.

  "Atlantic Beach has a gentle swell between three to five feet max, with a long break—perfect for beginners. It's not so light that you won't be able to get a ride in, but not so rough that you'll get beaten up by the waves—perfect in a bowl, baby."

  Laura rolled her eyes. "OK, Moon-doggie, I dig it. Let's go."

  He laughed. "You know it, sista."

  They took off with a squeal of tires. Laura screamed, then laughed.

  Opening the sunroof, Jack picked up route 70 and headed east to the barrier islands. He cranked up the stereo and the raspy voice of Bon Scott filled the Jeep. Laura and he found themselves dancing in their seats and singing along.

  Jack couldn’t help it—he couldn’t stop looking at her. Feet on the dash, hair entirely escaped from the now useless scrunchie, floating all around her in the slipstream like stalks of wheat in a
tornado. Laura mesmerized him more than any woman he’d ever known. She took his breath away.

  There was something healthy and natural that drew him to her. Was it her lack of pretense? She had a “what you see is what you get” vibe. There was nothing fake about Laura.

  It was as if the crap she’d suffered in her life, hadn’t weighed her down with baggage, as it would have for most people. Instead, it seemed to have burned away all the bullshit, simplifying her life and leaving her with just the important things.

  Her smile flashed as she sang about rocking people all night long. Laura laughed when she saw that he noticed her playing air guitar. She looked happy to him—really and truly happy—and this made him happy too.

  The highway followed the Neuse River as it gradually widened and deepened, turning from the tea brown color of the river to the deep blue of the bay and the ocean. When they reached Morehead city, after about a half an hour, a single right turn took them over the long suspension bridge that spanned the inter-coastal waterway and deposited them right into Atlantic Beach.

  It was a beach town, just like any other in the southeast with boardwalks and piers and summers only “hotdog” and “custard” places.

  Jack made a left turn. "The internet said that the waves were best at the northern tip of the island, at the state park."

  "Well,” she snickered, “if it's on the internet, it must be true."

  Jack shot her an admonishing look. "Give me a break, this isn't my territory. A guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do."

  "I’ve heard that before," Laura said with a sly smirk, and resumed dancing to the stereo.

  They drove up the road that bisected the island. Pastel painted beach houses on stilts lined the street until giving way to scrub pine and sea oats at the sign that marked the entrance to Fort Macon State Park.

  After a few minutes they turned down an oyster-shell paved road that led to the public beach. The shells cracked and crunched under the Jeep's tires. It was a weekday morning, so they found a parking spot easily.

  Jack immediately unstrapped the surf boards and pulled them off the roof. "Here," he said as he handed Laura the larger of the two.

  "Why make the girl carry the bigger one? That's not very gentlemanly, Sirah," she said, putting on a southern belle, “Scarlet O’Hara” accent.

  "Everybody carries their own boards. That's rule number one. Yours is a long board. It's big because beginners need a more stable platform. Mine's a short board. It's a lot smaller and thinner so I can turn it faster, but it's not as stable. It's not for beginners."

  Laura poked him on the leg with the nose of her board. "What if I want to ride your board instead?"

  "Rule two—have patience."

  "Don't go all Zen on me, now."

  "Hey, surfing is meditation—it's all Zen. C'mon."

  Chapter 31.

  Together, they climbed the trail from the parking lot up into the dunes. Jack heard the ocean before he could see it, and he smelled it before he heard it. When they crested the dune, the whole Atlantic lay out before them.

  Surfer girl, he mused, entranced.

  Watching Laura carry her board, all supple and healthy, a woman in the prime of her life—Jack just had to smile.

  “What?”

  “You look like a pro, pretty blonde surfer girl, carrying your board. We could be in California.”

  She tilted her head at him and gave him another mysterious smile. “Thank you.”

  "Straight that way," said Jack as he pointed, "is Spain. Don't go too far out."

  Laura grinned but she kicked some sand at him. He could feel the hot silicone grains speckle his thigh.

  "Don't be a smart ass. I live here remember."

  "Just making sure." He strode out across the beach and lay his board on the sand.

  Laura put hers next to his. "Not going in?"

  "Rule three—practice first. You need to practice getting up on the board on land before you give it a try in the water. Here, lie down on your stomach." Jack patted the top of the long board.

  Laura did as instructed. Jack took a moment to admire the shape of her—lean and lithe but still curvy in the right places. Her shorts were tight across her rump. The thought of sliding his hand down the smooth, silky skin of her back and across that firm butt danced through his mind.

  She spoke and brought him back to earth. "Ground control to Major Tom—you still with me?"

  "Uh...sorry. I zoned out there for a second."

  "The war?" Laura looked concerned.

  "No...it was…"—your tight little ass—

  He cleared his throat.

  Jack replied slowly as he thought of a less embarrassing answer. It'd be a real downer if he said yes to her war question, although it would've been an easy out. He figured a little white lie was best.

  "Lunch. Back home we had these great taco stands right on the beach—fish, beef, chicken—whatever you want."

  Laura laughed and shook her head. Her green eyes sparkled playfully and her teeth flashed. "Typical guy. Always worried about the next meal."

  "That's us. We're all just cavemen when you get down to it."

  "Alright, caveman. What next."

  Jack slid down onto his surfboard next to her. He lay on his belly and mimed paddling with his hands in the sand. Laura followed along.

  "You've got to learn to paddle right," Jack said as he watched her. "Reach out and take long strokes with your hands—first one, then bring it back then the other. Long, smooth strokes conserve energy, so they make you less tired. They also don't mess your balance up, like short, choppy ones. Get into a rhythm and you'll go a lot faster than you think you will. Got to be fast to catch the big breaks."

  "OK, OK. It seems easy enough."

  "That's because you're not bobbing around in the water. When you get your feet wet, if you swing your arms too wide, you can start the board rolling from side to side and even tip over. It doesn't happen much on a wide board like yours, which is why it's a good one for a beginner."

  Laura flailed around on the sand for a few more minutes and then looked over at Jack. "Am I doing it right?"

  "Yeah, for sure. You've got it and you look real smooth. You look more comfortable. Do you feel more comfortable?"

  "Yep!"

  "Good, 'cause now we're gonna practice the pop-up. Watch this."

  Jack brought his hands down to the sides of the board, even with his chest and then, in a single fluid motion, slid his legs underneath him while he did a push up.

  As his legs went into a crouched position, he let go of the board and spread his arms out for balance. Once balanced, he stood up fully.

  "See? Easy."

  "OK."

  With a little hesitation, Laura brought her arms down to the sides of her board and then pushed up. When she pulled in her legs, she went flying off the front of the board, headfirst into the sand.

  She was so damned cute! Trying not to laugh, Jack jumped over, pulled her up and dusted her off.

  "What the Hell?" Laura wiped the sand off from her face.

  "You pushed with your legs too soon. You have to wait until they’re directly under you and push up, not out."

  "But it felt right."

  "Well, sometimes things might feel right, but if you jump too soon, before you're ready and stable, it'll go wrong. You have to think about it before you do it and while you do it. Otherwise you’ll end up flat on your face—again."

  Laura gave him an odd look, as if what he said meant more to her than just surfing.

  Jumping in before you're ready. Is that it? Does she just jump in without thinking?

  Jack brushed this thought aside and put his instructor hat back on. "Let's do it in slow motion and just to your knees. Once you get that, we can get you standing up."

  Laura nodded and then carefully did as he said. She wobbled a little bit but was able to rise to her feet. When she popped up, Jack laughed again.

  "Ha! Goofyfoot!"

  "What?"<
br />
  "You lead with your right foot. That makes you a goofyfoot. Don't be bummed out, your swami here is one too."

  "Jeez," Laura said with an incredulous laugh, "I think you Californians are from another planet."

  "Not all Californians, just us surfers. I'll get you up on all the lingo and in no time you'll be saying stuff like, 'the lip of that gnarly bomb really axed me."

  Laura giggled. "Somehow, I really doubt that." Spreading her arms, she leaned forward. "Is this right?"

  "Getting there. Straighten up and keep your balance centered over the middle of the board. Sometimes you’ve got to walk your board—move toward the nose or the tail to balance it out. Don't look at your feet, look at the horizon. You'll go where you look, see? If you look down, you aren't going anywhere but down."

  "Like this?"

  "Better." Jack kicked some sand at her feet. "Now get down and do it again, newbie!"

  Laura did, and she popped up once more. She did it over and over again—each time she became smoother, quicker and more confident.

  Finally Jack had enough.

  "Looking good, kiddo." He took off his shirt. "Now it's time to get out there and find us some gnarly waves—as gnarly as they get out here anyways.”

  “Is that good? Gnarly, I mean.”

  “It can be both good and bad, I guess. It can mean difficult or dangerous, but also exciting and challenging.” He gestured out to the water. “Not too exciting out there, no barrels or curls to ride. You need BIG waves for that. For beginners, though, this surf is chocka —awesome.”

  “As long as you think so, I’m with you.” Laura jumped off the board and unzipped her shorts. As she shimmied out of them, Jack noted that her string bikini bottoms weren't the most efficient swimsuit for surfing.

  When she shucked off her shirt, he knew the upper part of her bikini wasn't practical either.

  This point hit home when he caught a tantalizing glimpse of her pink areola before she adjusted her top.

  Jack swallowed hard while trying to keep his eyeballs in their sockets and his tongue in his mouth. He decided not to say anything.

  Why make her self-conscious and ruin her day? Besides, it might slip all of the way off, and make his day a heck of a lot better.