Outside

by Michelle Mankin

  Karen jogged up the steep stairs to Narragansett Avenue. My street was nearly three stories above the sea. She would have to pass by my house on her way on to hers on Santa Cruz Avenue several blocks south. I turned back to the ocean dropping down on my rear on the dew damp sandstone, tucking my legs underneath me and arranging my skirt around them. Breathing in deep gulps of delicious salty air, I watched the sun peek over the horizon, gorgeous orange, yellow and red streaks of color christening the sky.

  I tried not to think about how angry my dad would be about me staying out all night. College had been my declaration of liberation from him. I had changed. I no longer cowered every single time he ranted. He wasn’t coping with the changes in me very well.

  Lost in my thoughts I watched the seagulls flying around the pier, breathed in deep breaths of moist salty air, closed my eyes and tipped my face into the breeze.

  College was great. Even though San Diego State University was only fifteen minutes away it felt like another world. I loved the challenge of my classes and loved the freedom to be my own person where I wasn’t known as Alberto Bianchi’s daughter.

  Leaning forward hands clasped together, I was feeling at peace with my decision to finally speak to him about changing my major. I started to hum at first then began to sing exuberantly the way I always did when I didn’t have to worry about pleasing an audience.

  “Fuck! Who the hell is that singing?” A sleepy irritated deep masculine voice complained.

  I abruptly stopped after the words ‘nothing seems real’ and jumped to my feet but stumbled on my deadened legs. I rubbed my calves frantically silently praying for them to wake up. Mortified and a bit frightened by the unexpected interruption, I was poised to flee but stilled when a man emerged from around a deep niche in the cliff.

  Finger combing his thick waves of sandy blond hair and tucking a tee back into his frayed jeans, he stopped and stared at me. For a long moment we held each other’s eyes. His were clear blue like my ocean though a little bloodshot around the edges. They widened slightly and for a moment it almost seemed as though he was just as stunned by my appearance as I was by his.

  A warm shimmer of recognition rolled through me. I had seen him around town. A professional surfer who was visiting for the summer. The women in town gravitated toward him like he was the moon and they the ocean tide. He was good looking in an effortless kind of way. Confident demeanor. Strong jaw. Compelling smile that he flashed often though I had only seen him do so from a distance.

  I could certainly understand the appeal.

  “Lincoln what’s going on?” A red head with tangled hair and pink stubble abraded skin stepped into view. Our eyes widened as we regarded each other.

  “Kit,” I said.

  “Simone,” she acknowledged glancing away quickly. She was a waitress at Napoli’s Seaside. My father only hired locally and practically everyone had worked at our place at one time or another. It was the only fancy restaurant in OB, so popular the tourists from downtown San Diego even made the trek to sample my father’s famous mussels.

  Not only did I know who Kit was, I also knew that she was married.

  “I’ll see you around,” Kit told Lincoln avoiding my eyes as she skirted around me and hit the same stairs Karen had used earlier.

  I followed her for a moment with my eyes.

  “What were you singing just now?”

  “Huh?” I turned back to look at Lincoln. He wasn’t watching Kit. Gaze appraising and maybe even appreciative, he was staring at me still, his light eyes sparkling like the surface of the ocean.

  “The song,” he explained his tone reflecting his amusement. “It sounded familiar.” His sexy lips curved up at the corners as I continued to be confused. “It’s driving me nuts. I just can’t seem to place it.”

  “Oh.” My cheeks flamed. That explained his keen interest. It wasn’t me he was interested in. It was the song. “It’s ‘Last Night of the World’ from the musical Miss Saigon.”

  “Really?” Brows darker than his hair rose. “Well that’s cool I guess.” His bemused smile widened and a slight dimple creased one cheek. “You usually out here giving impromptu performances at dawn?”

  I smoothed my skirt before peering up at him through my lashes. “You usually out here on the tidal flats carrying on with married ladies?”

  The smile and the sparkle of amusement vanished. I had meant the comeback to be coy but he apparently received it differently. “Don’t be so quick to be judge and jury for all that you see, Simone. Especially when you’re not privy to all the facts.”

  I bowed up a bit at his high and mighty tone, but then nodded. He was right and anyway what business was it of mine? He seemed surprised by my reaction to his scolding but then he didn’t know me. It would take harsher words than those to upset me.

  “I gotta go,” I muttered and turned away moving toward the stairs. This whole scene had gotten weird and a little awkward.

  “Ok,” he agreed readily. “Only Simone.”

  “Yes.” Fingers curled around the rough wood railing, I turned to look back. He was a solitary compelling figure, his hands plunged deep into his pockets, his broad shoulders looking tense as the wind rippled across the loose cotton of his shirt giving an enticing hint of the impressive musculature that lay beneath.

  “If you get in the mood to come down to this spot again, I’m usually here early most mornings.” He regarded me steadily something in his gaze that I couldn’t identify piercing me deeply. “Oh, and I really enjoyed hearing your song.”

  “What’s going on with you tonight?” Ash bumped my shoulder. Hard. Almost knocking me over. My cousin was built like a Charger linebacker but he didn’t seem to realize his strength.

  “Nothing.” I tipped back my beer chugging it and draining it dry before tossing it aside. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

  “Yeah,” he smiled and lifted a platinum brow. He was much more the typical blond blue eyed So Cal surfer than I was. If I wasn’t in the sun every day my hair tended to revert to boring brown.

  “I bet. Kit is smokin’.”

  “She’s alright.” I didn’t usually reveal anything at all about the chicks I slept with but Ash and I were cousins. Practically brothers truth be told given the amount of time I had spent at his house over the years instead of at my own with my old man always on some drunken bender. “Nothing special.”

  He dipped his chin to acknowledge my words and we went back to staring at the dancing flames inside the pit.

  “You ever heard of a girl named Simone? Long light brown hair with pretty highlights. Honey colored eyes. Sings like a siren.”

  “Simone Bianchi?” He glanced at me sharply. “Sure. Her family owns Napoli’s Seaside. I didn’t know she sang. But she’s got a figure…” He trailed off using both his hands as if tracing her delectable curves that I couldn’t help but notice. I would’ve been dead not to. “Where’d you run into her?”

  “At the beach this morning.” I shrugged indifferently but Ash wasn’t buying it. He knew me too well.

  “She’s not your usual type.” His steady gaze was assessing and I knew he saw the obvious interest I hadn’t been able to hide. I had been thinking about her while getting churned in the disappointing surf all day. Her captivating voice and equally captivating body. Her pretty face. But there had been something else, something beyond those things, a mystery within those striking eyes of hers that seemed familiar and that intrigued me.

  “She’s out of your league, dude.” He rubbed his fingers together. “Her family is loaded. Besides, her dad keeps a real tight leash on her. And he hates surfers. You wouldn’t get past the front door.”

  Maybe, I thought. I would need an unconventional approach. I wasn’t willing to let it go and I refused to leave seeing her again up to chance.

  I stood brushing the crumbs from the tortilla chips we had been munching on earlier onto the cracked concrete patio and tilted my head toward the backyard gate. “I’m gonna go fo
r a walk. You wanna come?”

  “No thanks. I gotta head over to Ramon’s place in a bit.”

  “Band practice,” I guessed. “Again?”

  “Even the Dirt Dogs the most popular band in OB needs repetition to get better.”

  “I can’t believe you let your dad name your band.” Uncle Gene was a big Red Sox fan from before he moved to San Diego and liked the nickname the fans gave to scrappy hardworking players.

  Ash shrugged. “We’ve got a gig coming up at the Deck Bar.”

  “Where Dominic’s dad works?”

  “Yeah and that’s probably part of the reason we got the job since I mostly suck as lead singer, but otherwise I don’t think we’re half bad. Even better whenever you step in and sing with us. You ought to swing by after your walk. Join us for a song or two.”

  “I might,” I replied noncommittally. I loved music but I wasn’t as serious about it as Ash and the others were. I was proud of them for the success they had, but tonight I had a much more pressing curiosity to satisfy. Besides I really wasn’t feeling like listening to Ramon’s crap. The band’s guitarist tended to be long winded about the latest chick he was into.

  Once outside the gate, I hooked a sharp right my feet automatically leading in the direction my heart wanted to go.

  I had to see her again.

  I sat in my booth headphones over my ears listening to Rihanna’s new CD and trying to project calm as I waited for my father’s inevitable lecture. I’d lucked out when I was able to sneak into the house after the beach. My mother had been passed out cold on the living room sofa, an empty bottle of wine on the end table beside her, and when I’d tiptoed upstairs past my parent’s bedroom it had been empty.

  My dad hadn’t come home at all last night as far as I could tell. Apparently things had gotten even worse between them after I left for college.

  I took another sip of my sparkling water as a blur of movement outside the restaurant window caught my attention. I turned in time to see Lincoln enter through the main door. Dinner was in full swing, the white tablecloths draped over tables, roses in vases, candles flickering and the patrons dressed in their usual finery. Heads turned and censuring stares ensued as Lincoln waited in front of the hostess stand sandy hair windblown, wearing the same casual clothes he’d had on at the beach.

  I couldn’t figure out why he kept hanging around. Didn’t Ava the hostess on duty tell him Kit wasn’t working tonight?

  Chin lifted, Lincoln’s defiant stance said ‘fuck you if you don’t think I belong here’, an attitude I definitely admired but could never pull off myself. The only sign that he was affected by the stares was the slight tick in his cheek from his clenched jaw and for some reason that hint of vulnerability drew me in more than his obvious attributes.

  Without consciously meaning to, I got up and was on my way to intervene when I brushed into one of our bow tied waiters. After murmuring an apology to him, I found that Ava had met me halfway.

  “That guy’s asking for you.” Ava tipped her chin toward Lincoln. “He’s really cute.” Her eyes twinkled with interest.

  “Ok, thanks.” I replied.

  He was here for me and not Kit. Why? I wondered.

  That knowledge made me feel flustered and my voice was a little breathless when I reached him. “Hey,” I greeted Lincoln while passing on a grateful smile to the patron who scooted around us tying up Ava’s attention. Lincoln’s light blue eyes latched onto me as if I were a life preserver in an uncharted sea. “Ava said you were looking for me?” My tone indicated my surprise and my heart thudded against my ribs as I waited for him to reveal his purpose for being here. Plus now I could feel all those stares on me, too. I hoped my father remained in the kitchen.

  “Who else?” His dismissive gaze swept the room. “Don’t see anyone but you.”

  I smiled wider than I should have at his interest. His gaze dipped to my mouth briefly before returning to my eyes, his glittering dangerously as if my smile had pleased him. His warm fingers curled around my elbow and he leaned in close.

  “Come outside and talk to me a minute.” His voice was deep and tempting. “I want to ask you something.” The warmth of his breath tickled against my skin making me shiver.

  “I can’t.” I shook my head wondering why my denial made him look so angry. “My dad’s in the kitchen.” I nervously twirled a lock of my hair. “I’m in trouble with him already and I don’t want more. He specifically told me to stay here and wait for him.” I pleaded with my eyes for him to understand. Even though I had just met him I didn’t want him to think that my obedience to my father was a weakness. Sometimes being strong meant doing what you had to do instead of what you wanted.

  “I don’t really get it,” he drew out his words and that strong jaw of his tensed again. “It’s not like I’m asking you to run away with me. I just want a moment with you alone.”

  “Ok,” I agreed ignoring the loud bell of caution clanging in my ears and Lincoln’s widening eyes because I was too caught up in the idea that I could be a girl who didn’t always have to fall in line with her father’s wishes.

  “Simone, what’s going on here?” His familiar booming voice stopped me cold.

  I spun around taking in my father’s red mottled face and his flashing dark eyes. My gaze immediately dropped to the black and white hexagon tiles. One glance had told me what I needed to know. Time to deflect, appease and escape.

  “Nothing’s going on, Daddy,’ I said softly but distinctly. He didn’t like it when I mumbled. “Nothing at all. I was just…” I faltered for a believable explanation.

  “I came by to apply for a job, Sir.” That was news to me, but if that were really the case why had he wanted to talk to me alone? Was this just a ploy to cover for me to keep me out of trouble with my dad? He had gotten worse over the years and I bore the brunt of most of his displeasure. No one stuck their neck out for me with him anymore. Not even my mother. “Simone was just…”

  “Miss Bianchi,” my father cut him off. “My daughter is Miss Bianchi to you. Mr…”

  “Savage. Lincoln Savage.” My chest was tight with anxiety but my heart went a little fluttery hearing his full name for the first time.

  “Mr. Savage. You happen to be in luck. A position just opened up. I need a busser and a washer. Do you have any experience?”

  “Yes, actually. Not here in OB, but in San Diego I worked at an In-N-Out Burger two summers in a row.”

  “Fine. Follow me to the kitchen. Edgar will show you where everything is and we’ll see how you do this evening before I make a final determination.”

  “The pier,” Lincoln whispered low as he passed by me giving me a quick purposeful look I couldn’t begin to decipher. “I want to see you again. Come to the pier tomorrow.”

  I washed dishes, cleared tables and I listened. What I suspected from witnessing that one brief encounter between Simone and her father was almost immediately confirmed. It wasn’t just his daughter who feared Alberto Bianchi’s wrath, it was the entire staff.

  The man ran the restaurant like a prisoner of war camp. Cooks, servers, busboys, bartenders. They all jumped at a word from him and kept their eyes to the ground when being reprimanded like Simone had done. With a different upbringing I might not have picked up on what was going on so fast but my old man was a sorry ass drunk with a heavy hand. I recognized a tyrant when I saw one.

  Simone was employing deflecting techniques where she sat in the booth with him right at the moment. Her head bowed to his authority as he gesticulated, her pretty hair formed a shimmery curtain for her to hide behind. Sweet, beautiful and in obvious need of a champion. Gut churning I took more time than was necessary to clean table thirteen so I could keep an eye on her.

  “Don’t worry about Simone,” a soft feminine voice said low.

  Startled I nearly dropped a wine glass as I spun around to see who had spoken to me. A beautiful middle aged woman with eyes so heavily lidded I could barely see their honey color, lifted a
half full tumbler of something to her berry stained lips and polished it off before continuing. “She has her plan.” She slurred a little too loudly and slapped a manicured hand on the bar for a refill. “Three years. When she has her degree she can be free of him. Of us. May the Blessed Virgin Mary grant that it would be so.” She clumsily twirled a tendril of dark brown hair around her finger. That was when I made the connection. This was Simone’s mother.

  I thought it best not to acknowledge any of what she had revealed or that I’d been watching Simone in the first place. I knew from experience that drunks were not good at keeping secrets. I slid my bucket of dirty dishes from the booth and headed back to the kitchen.

  My eyes were a little puffy but they were dry now. I had silently cried alone in my room with the door locked after having been reprimanded and having my phone confiscated. Letting my dad know he’d gotten to me was never a good thing. I’d learned from a pretty young age that he seemed to derive a warped degree of satisfaction from upsetting people, my mother and me in particular.

  Not wanting to waste my time on the beach being sad about things I couldn’t change, I tipped my face to the warmth of the rising sun and filled my lungs with the fresh ocean air. It was later in the morning than I had planned to come but erring on the side of caution I had waited until my dad had left the house.

  When I refocused my sunglass shaded gaze back on the ocean, I saw Lincoln enter the water beside the pier confidently wading through it up to his waist with another surfer beside him. Even with his full wet suit on and his sandy hair covered I recognized him. His handsome profile. The confident efficient way he moved. I had certainly watched him enough last night as he bussed tables before I’d gone home and retreated to the sanctuary of my room.

  I don’t think he noticed me. I was sitting in front of the rocks behind the lifeguard stand. I was a full fifty yards away from him and the pier but close enough to see him flash a carefree smile at the guy next to him before they both hopped on their boards and paddled out.